


All that Remains

by HeadintheCloudsForever



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23668375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadintheCloudsForever/pseuds/HeadintheCloudsForever
Summary: Maggie is alone in the world after a walker horde wiped out her entire family and their farm. Wandering for weeks, she doesn't expect to make a human connection until she meets Glenn Rhee, who offers to let her stay with his group on the outskirts of Atlanta. But she quickly gets more than she bargained for when the leader of the group begins to express an interest in Maggie. Not fitting in very well, Maggie has to learn to keep her wits about her and survive in a completely different way if she wants to stay alive, forming an unlikely friendship in the process.
Relationships: Maggie Greene/Glenn Rhee
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note/Summary: Set in an alternate universe, Maggie Greene is alone in the world after a walker horde wiped out her entire family and their farm. Wandering for weeks, she doesn't expect to make a human connection until she meets Glenn Rhee, who offers to let her stay with his group on the outskirts of Atlanta. But she quickly gets more than she bargained for when the leader of the group begins to express an interest in Maggie. Not fitting in very well, Maggie has to learn to keep her wits about her and survive in a completely different way if she wants to stay alive, forming an unlikely friendship in the process.
> 
> Notes: This is mainly a story about Maggie, Glenn, and Merle, told in third person POV, and is an alternate universe compared to the show, though if I had to pinpoint, I would say kind of close to seasons 1 and 2, because Merle in this story is still very much a jerk, though I do plan to give him some humanity too.
> 
> I'm still working on fleshing out the story (pun intended since it's a zombie story?) but I have the first 3 or so chapters written. I don't know yet how long it will be. Maybe 8 or so, but I plan to try to post at least once a week, and whatever this winds up being, I hope you enjoy it. Enjoy :)

**Chapter One**

Maggie Greene drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs as she stared at the walker approaching her. The walker had one ear missing and both its lips had been bitten off, perhaps that was its death-kiss from the geek that had turned him into one of the undead.

Her fingers twitched as her right hand hovered near the hilt of her knife, but she couldn't bring herself to kill it. Not yet. She was momentarily startled at how much, upon first glance, that the sick man looked like Otis. For a second, she thought that it _had_ been him. One hand had been mangled and his right bicep was chewed away, exposing the white humerus beneath. He had been scalped by some failed attempt to slay him and as he drew each rattling breath, he made a low growling moan that chilled her blood. Its dirty blue eyes staring back into her looked so…empty and devoid of life. The walker's skin was like crinkled paper and its jaw was open too wide to display a set of rotting yellow teeth. The veins were about to burst from the former man's head.

Blood was splattered like red paint all over his face and hands. His hands were like sticks with their flesh almost falling off, but the disgusting rotting nails were what creeped Maggie out. Torn off from the fingers hanging on the edge they seemed like a drowning man holding onto a stick, about to drown at any time, and it was this thought that prompted the lone woman to quickly put the thing out of its misery, stabbing it in the head, near the brain like she had been put, with a knife from her sheath. Once the creature was well and truly dead, she shifted her backpack, adjusting the straps for a more comfortable fit, heading towards the convenience store. The air was heavy with the smell of dead bodies and burnt flesh. Smoke hung in a haze that partially obscured the blood-red sun, and Maggie couldn't think of a more fitting sun for the atmosphere, given how close it was to Halloween, or had it passed her by? She couldn't remember. All she knew was that the days had dragged on ever since…the fire. The horde that had come to her farm and attacked it, leaving her as the only sole survivor of the Greene family.

Everyone else was dead, and she knew better than most not to look back. That to go forward meant to stay alive. Patricia, Otis, her father… her sister, Beth. All of them. Gone. Maggie was the only one left.

Her father, Herschel, had said that it was like something out of the Bible when the people had started getting sick, claiming it was the Four Horsemen of Death. He had told her and Beth once over dinner that when the four horsemen would come and watch the world burn from the saddles of their black stallions, it was the closest thing demons could come to happiness. There was a whole world to kill and nothing to stop them.

Death would eventually claim every last one of them all, in the end…

The only thing that matted to the young brunette now was finding more supplies. She was running low and if she wanted to live out another week, she had to find food, hence her trip into the city to find supplies.

Maggie considered herself lucky to have survived in the wilderness for as long as she had on her own. Any number of things could have happened. Traveling alone (not necessarily her favorite method, but certainly one of the most efficient) had certainly helped. She considered herself to be in pretty good shape and agile. Was a good runner when it came down to it, but sooner or later, what she really needed was people.

She knew in the long run she couldn't stay alone forever, though it was easier in the short term since the further distance and a cold detachment she maintained to any people that she came across, it meant she wouldn't get her heart broken when they died from a horde attack or some other means. It was just…easier. Easier, but harder, for sure. Maggie sighed.

Maggie shifted her backpack again and poked her head around the corner of a building. At long last, she had made it. Atlanta. She hadn't wanted to stay in the country following the deaths of her family members. She figured she would have better luck finding people here.

But now…she was starting to doubt her idea to come here. Maggie drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs as she looked around.

No walkers for now that she could see, so that was good, though it was getting dark soon and if she didn't hurry up, there would be swarms of them. The streets of Atlanta that she knew once to be full of life now stood deserted and empty. Gone were the stores with their windows of cute clothing or delicacies for sale. Now even at midday like this, all you'd find, and all Maggie found when she looked around was the dusty cracked sidewalks and street with only the wind and an occasional walker for company. There were cracked sidewalks, empty gun shells, and broken store fronts laid to waste by desperate looters, probably in the beginning when it all started, she guessed. Maggie heaved a heavy sigh and headed towards the first store that caught her attention. A looted Walgreens. Maybe they'd finally have what she needed, and if she were lucky, maybe some of the medicines wouldn't have been picked over. Not that she was sick or needed any of it right now, but in this day and age, you couldn't be too careful. "C'mon, Nuts, let's go," she grumbled, motioning to the tiny squirrel Beanie Baby that her sister Beth had given to her one year for Christmas when they were little girls. It was one of the little ones, the kind McDonald's used to sell in their Happy Meals.

Nuts had become something like her traveling companion over the last several weeks, and she appreciated she could tell the damn squirrel pretty much anything and she knew his lips would be sealed. It was also one of the few things left of her family that she had left, so she'd grown attached.

She had stuffed it into the front pocket of her jeans, his head poking out so he too could look out into the war-ravaged streets. Though Maggie seriously doubted Nuts could see anything. He never really spoke to her.

"Oh my God," she moaned, running her hand through her hair as she gingerly stepped over pieces of broken glass, choosing to enter the Walgreens through the smashed-in window. "I hope they have some Tylenol and Ramen Noodles." She felt like she'd eaten nothing but berries and whatever else she could kill in the wilderness, mostly fish.

The pharmacy was wedged between two taller buildings. It looked squeezed, as if the other stores were closing in on it, squeezing it to death.

The sign was pretty much gone, some letters had become illegible in the peeling paint. Maggie caught sight of her reflection in a broken piece of glass, the remnants of what used to be a mirror, and let out a tired sigh.

Against her pale skin her hair was a deep brown, yet on any other it would be mid-to-fair. Perhaps that's what made the hair look like it didn't belong to her, like some bizarre wig. But by the way a few stray hairs tended to stick out, no-one doubted it was all hers who ever met her. Her brown hair was a lovely whisky, falling to her shoulders in gentle waves and layers, the color of fallen leaves browned and sleek with the first rain of fall. How such a tint could play with the light, like peering at the sun through a jar of pine honey, though right now it was dirtied, and she hoped the store she was about to raid would have some shampoo.

What she wouldn't give for a hot shower, a real one…

She had a kind of understated beauty, perhaps it was because she was so disarmingly unaware of her prettiness. Her pale skin was completely flawless, minus the occasional dirt smudge and dried blood stain.

Maggie Greene was all about simplicity, making things easy, helping those around her to relax and be happy with what they have. Perhaps that was why her skin glowed so, it was her inner beauty that lit her eyes and softened her features. When she smiled and laughed you couldn't help but smile along too, even if it was just on the inside, though laughing was the last thing Maggie felt like doing as she looked around at the looted store.

She worked quickly, swiping up several packets of instant noodles that she could come across, her mind screaming at her, willing her body to do a happy dance at the thought of food— _real_ food—not berries for a change. Maggie swiped the last three bottles of water, and a couple bottles of soda, the individual kind, not the big liters, and stuffed them into her bag. The former college student and farmhand moved swiftly and nimbly through the store, grabbing a couple bags of chips and candy, and stuffing them as far down into her backpack as she could go. When she was confident her bag was full, she ducked behind the corner of the window, peeking her head out just slightly to check for any signs of the infected.

"I think the coast is clear, Nuts," she whispered, glancing down affectionately at the tiny Beanie Baby stuffed in her jeans pocket.

_All I need is another friend for Nuts and name it Balls and then I'd have Nuts and Balls_ , Maggie thought darkly to herself as she stepped outside.

Her sense of humor, especially over the last few weeks the more isolated she became was kind of an acquired taste. You had to get used to Maggie.

Maggie groaned, thumping her palm down her forehead, dragging it along the side of her face in exasperation. "Oh my God, I really am going crazy. Talking to a stuffed plush squirrel like it can actually talk back to me…" She bit her bottom lip hard enough to bleed and started walking.

"I think it's cute. You're not crazy. I do it all the time," a man's voice grinned, a low chuckle escaping his mouth, eliciting a startled cry from the young woman as she whirled around, instinctively drawing her knife.

The dagger was small and somewhat unassuming with its plain wooden handle. Herschel had given it to her when the world had started going to shit, just in case, though he told his oldest daughter he hoped she would never have to use it. For all its bland looks, it was the sharpest knife the Greene family had owned. The dagger currently lay cold in her hands.

It was short at four inches but so sharp even the most gentle of touches to flesh would result in a free bleeding cut, and she made sure this asshole knew this as she pressed the tip of her blade into the column of the guy's throat, not hard enough to pierce the skin, but definitely forceful enough to enforce her intended message: Stay away from me…or else.

The man standing in front of her was smirking at her, which made Maggie feel uneasy. Though she supposed he looked kind enough.

On either side of his straight nose were two blazing dark brown eyes. Spiked, warm brown fringed with smooth green. His dark brows were actually graceful, but currently furrowed in a frown. All of it was framed by a thick tuft of straight black hair, currently hidden under a ball cap.

"Easy," he soothed, his hands raised above his head, showing Maggie he meant the young woman no harm. "I—I didn't mean anything by it."

"Who are you?" Maggie snarled, careful to keep her voice low, though it didn't stop the stranger from clamping a hand over her mouth, the gesture of which was so unexpected that she didn't have time to scream.

"Name's Glenn. I—I have a group," he began hastily, seeing Maggie's dark brown eyes narrow in suspicion as she glanced around, seeing no one else. He clenched his eyes shut. "I'm not going to hurt you, ma'am. Now…can you…lower your knife, please? I'd like to not die today."

"I don't believe you," she hissed. "Where are they then, this group?"

He pointed a slightly shaking finger towards the outskirts of the city. Maggie's heart sank. The woods. The last place she wanted to go back.

Still, something about the young man's voice gave Maggie pause. He did kind of have a nice soothing voice, and it was pleasant to listen to.

Though she'd never tell _him_ that.

"How many people?" she breathed, feeling her eyes go wide and round. If it turned out he was telling the truth, this could be her shot. What she'd been hoping for, the chance to feel like part of a group again.

Maybe, if she was lucky, even family.

"Five," he began shakily. "Friends mostly, folks I met on the road. They're good people, I think you'd like them, and we can always use more people. More people we have, better our chances of surviving." He glanced down at Maggie and breathed out a shaking breath. "You and your… _squirrel_ are welcome to join me and come with us if you want."

Maggie scowled, furrowing her brows into a frown as she felt his gaze drift downwards towards her jeans pocket, where his eyes had settled on Nuts. She felt her defenses immediately begin to flare up, but something about the man's voice sounded kind and gave her pause, so she lowered her knife, sheathing it at last. "I'm Maggie," she said reluctantly, after a long pause. "Sorry," she apologized in a tone that suggested she wasn't sorry at all. The young Asian man motioned for her to follow him.

"Keep low, stay quiet, and try not to die," he whispered, careful to keep his voice low. She nodded in acknowledgement and followed his grueling pace without complaint. The warm humidity of the fall Georgia heat made her feel sticky and suffocated. Her clothes and hair, slick with perspiration, clung to her skin. She swatted another pesky insect.

Sweat rolled down her skin in thick, salty beads. She could feel her heart throbbing inside her chest. Her skin felt like it was roasting. She began bouncing slightly as she jogged, which wore her out quickly. She settled to stumbling along behind him as fast as she could. Maggie was vaguely aware of a stinging in her leg. She was exhausted by noon. By then they had reached the stream. She went to her knees and filled her water bottle, trying to catch her breath.

Her lungs felt like they would burst, and her throat was so dry.

"Damn," Glenn swore under his breath not even five minutes after they had stopped, and Maggie felt her head whiplash up to the right, straining to look to see what this possible new friend saw that she had missed.

"Oh," she breathed. It was all she could say, really.

The strange humanoid stomped into the forest clearing. As Maggie stole a glance at its face, the young woman saw something horrific. The sight could turn you to stone. Its snake-like emerald green eyes darted around with emotionless eyes, its rotting lips were already half destroyed. She heard the bones crack as his neck turned and then a blood curdling moan. It spotted the pair of them. Death walked towards her. Without even waiting for Glenn, who was shouting something inaudible and begged for her to stop and wait for him, Maggie did what she had to and jumped into the pitch air. The horde of zombies was coming closer and closer, their smell becoming even more unbearable. They had deformed bodies, and limbs sticking out at odd angles. Their bloodshot eyes darted over the land, looking for food. Reaching arms, flesh peeling, in short, they were terrifyingly grotesque. Groans and moans came from their open mouths, wanting human meat.

Her heart in her mouth, Maggie Greene ran for her life, only to be met with another walker not even thirty feet from the creek. Glenn, it sounded like, was dealing with the other one. The emaciated man had dirt and grit all over his clothes and grimy body. His dark gray shirt (which used to be white) was tattered and shredded mainly where his heart should be. Maggie should have taken pity on the unfortunate wretch but instead she felt an unexplained loathing at first sight.

Even from the end of the forest's edge, closer towards the highway, she could see his cruel, detestable, disturbing smile in a permanent sinister snarl. Sunken, milky white eyes stared with mindless menace into hers.

Maggie wondered briefly, perhaps inappropriately given the desperate situation the two found themselves in, if when someone was turned, if they still felt things, if there was even a shred of the old person left.

She doubted it, but still, she had to wonder. Suddenly, the skeletal creature started shuffling towards me like a decrepit, decaying old man.

As he got closer, Maggie could see that he had a dislocated jaw showing his torn tongue and blood-stained, razor sharp, savage teeth.

Unexpectedly, a flame of anger seemed to ignite within him. He let out a piercing screech and charged towards Maggie with ape-like fury. As he ran, she could tell that this thing outweighed her by several pounds, possibly more than twenty, and her little dagger wouldn't help her out.

She _really_ wished she had a gun. Maggie barely opened her mouth to scream when she felt something cold and hard strike the back of her head.

"Wha…?" Maggie glanced up wearily to see a man, a different one than Glenn this time, and this one didn't look so kind as Glenn did, with cold, dark eyes, and she had no time to react as he brought his fist down on her face. Maggie's eyesight blurred, but not because tears were welling up. Everything became fuzzy; then she saw nothing at all and heard nothing except for a strange ringing in her ears, like tinnitus. Her consciousness was floating through an empty space filled with a thick static.

Throughout the inky space her heartbeats pounded loudly, echoing in her ears, alongside fading pleas for help and what sounded like the muffled growls of the walkers that she wasn't even sure what was happening to them, if they had eaten Glenn and this other guy yet.

Feeling in her body drained away until finally all was black


	2. To Accept Your Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Fair warning. Obviously since this is closer to season 2 Merle & Daryl's characters, they're still going to be jerks, and they call Glenn some racial insults in this chapter and others which I totally don't condone, but didn't feel real not* writing it since not doing so I felt like wouldn't be true to their characters' personalities at the time that this takes place.

**Chapter Two**

Daryl Dixon frowned at their newest captive his older brother Merle had dragged back to their campsite, Rhee protesting quietly under his breath all the way, though everyone in their group knew the Asian boy was practically terrified of Merle, and wouldn't dare speak out against him. Their newest member to the group was a young woman. She was kind of pretty, Daryl guessed, and would look fine once she cleaned up.

She lay on the forest floor huddled against the trunk of an old oak tree, unmoving. The only indication she had given that she was alive was the slow rising and falling of her chest, which let Daryl know his brother hadn't been too rough with her dragging her back here, which, he'd guessed by the way Glenn was still hollering to anyone who'd listen, had been interesting. The brown-haired girl had put up quite a fuss a couple of times, waking from consciousness only to have Merle hit her again.

Each time, and it had to be at least four, if Merle had been telling the truth when he got back, had been harder than the last. He called this one a she-wolf, claiming she still had some fight in her, and that he liked it.

At that, the younger Dixon brother furrowed his brow into a frown. He didn't care much that his brother went around hitting women, but…

_He's your leader_ , his conscience unhelpfully reminded him, and Daryl knew that if you wanted to keep the peace in this group, you _stayed_ on Merle's good side. Daryl knew better than most the consequences of what happened when you pissed Merle off. He still had the scar from their last scuffle to prove it, just above his right eyebrow, and he'd always have it.

Merle had taken precautions with their newest 'guest' and had bound her hands together with a pair of zip ties, though not going so far as to duct tape the girl's mouth shut, which Daryl thought was kind of strange.

Any other new arrivals, not even the one other girl in the group, a tiny little slip of a blonde named Molly, had been immune to that treatment. _Except for this one_. _Wonder why. Maybe Merle's got something in mind for her,_ Daryl thought, finding himself growing intrigued as he watched her, absentmindedly sharpening his knives while he waited for her to wake up. As much as it went against every fiber of his being to keep a woman captive like this, they couldn't afford to be lax. They had to choose who they trusted more carefully these days.

Daryl grunted in response as his brother's shadow towered over his, completely engulfing him in momentary darkness. "Merle," he growled by ways of greeting. "Where the hell'd you find this one, brother?"

His brother was somewhat too tall for his build, and stocky. Were he a few inches shorter, Daryl guessed Merle would be handsome for it, but it was like he'd stopped growing, only be stretched by one of those medieval racks a half-foot more. He met his younger brother's gaze with a blunt refusal to avert his gaze first, and Daryl narrowed his eyes. It was strange to see those familiar features almost…caring. Like they were stolen. Merle had never really given a shit about anyone, except Daryl, and even then, he tended to show his emotions in his own ways.

Merle chuckled in response, his hands in his pockets. "Cute little slip of a thing, ain't she? This one looks like she been around a time or two..." There was a strange gleam in his brother's eyes Daryl wasn't sure if he liked, but he knew better than to question it. His voice had a husky drawl to it, and every step forward Merle took was in slow motion compared to almost anyone else Daryl knew, which was few. He preferred to keep a safe, social distance from most other people.

Merle's idea of hurrying was to bend his head downward a little as he walked, the pace of his footfalls not changing at all. That's just the way the older Dixon brother was, born calm. Couldn't change the guy.

Didn't even want to really, so what was the point in thinking on it?

"Where'd she come from?" Daryl tried again, hoping to get him to talk. The more they learned about her, the safer the group would be.

"Chinglish found her makin' a dry run in the city," his brother growled. Merle jerked his thumb back towards the camp, and Daryl craned his neck to see, where the Asian boy was talking in low but animated tones to the only other woman in the group, a young blonde named Molly. They'd picked her up about two weeks ago, wandering the streets of Atlanta. She'd had nowhere else to go, and Merle was…well, to put it lightly, craving the company of the female variety, so he'd allowed her in. A weird smile crept over Merle's lined features as his hand ran first down the woman's thigh, settling on her jeans, and then up to her chest.

She was warm enough not to be dead, but so immobile that Merle's hit had her out for the count. Daryl grunted as he looked at the rapidly purpling bruise developing over the young woman's left eye, on her cheek. It was definitely going to yellow as it aged. "You didn't have to hit her, goddamn it," he growled angrily.

Daryl knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth that they'd hit their mark as Merle's posture stiffened and straightened, as the growl came from the back of Merle's throat and his brother's blue eyes met his own, that Daryl was about to get an earful. Again. He'd never seen any emotion in Merle's eyes other than hatred and contempt for the world.

But now they embraced the wind, like a calm gust before returning to a calm sea. "Not goin' soft on me, are you, brother? Don't start that shit. Not now. We haven't had the pleasure of…the female kind, in a while, you feel me?" Merle grinned, a lopsided grin creeping onto his face.

As Merle felt his gaze drift towards the still sleeping young woman, he felt the strange sudden urge to really see her face, touch her dark hair, but the fact that the woman wasn't even awake yet had meant the games hadn't yet begun and Merle was always a stickler for the rules of things. He wondered if she had any family left who'd be missing her, and what they would do to get her back. What they would be willing to trade. Merle never gave up a capture. If they could get supplies then so much the better, but living his fantasies was his drug of choice these days.

Merle let out a heavy sigh as he rose to his feet, noticing how his younger had bristled, his chest puffing out slightly as he had no doubt noticed the surprisingly tender way he had been handling their newest member of their little band of travelers. This woman was gonna be fun. Next time, he'd have to do the swiping himself, then they'd play by his rules, but given the way the woman was stirring, he didn't want to give her just cause to hate him. Their group needed more people, like it or not. But still. He was their leader and they all played by Merle's rules. What else mattered other than that? He startled as a low murmuring reached his ears, and he glanced down to see the Asian boy's little crush was waking up. He snorted as he watched the kid's ears practically perk up like a dog at the noise, and he rushed over with a small plate of food. The kid blanched at seeing the girl's hands bound in the zip ties. Glowering, he shot a dirty look up towards Merle, whose face remained impassive, and then to Daryl, who merely shrugged his shoulders, staying out of it.

"Think you can take these off her? She's not going anywhere. The hell do you need zip ties for?" he growled, dipping into his backpack, and pulling out a pair of scissors, cutting them off. "Better?" he asked. Merle scowled, though thankfully, chose not to make a comment. The pair of brothers and Glenn watched as the brunette's dark eyes flung open as she woke up faster than a cat in ice water, every sense urging her to claw her way to standing, but a jolt of pain travelled from the tips of her foot all the way up to her thigh, and it rendered her immobile.

Drowsiness these days got folks dead, fast. Only the paranoid survives.

A nudge to her ribcage made her jerk awake even faster to see the boy's smiling face from earlier. _Gary?_ Maggie thought drowsily. _No_. _Glenn, Glenn, his name is Glenn._ She said it to herself like a mantra. She'd never been great with names, at least not at first. "How long was I out?" she grumbled, sitting up straighter, and winced as she tried to move her hands. A quick glance down at her wrists told her everything she needed to know. These people had no intention of letting her leave.

"I had to wake you up, dollface, because you weren't listening," came the gravelly voice of the man who had hit her. He poked her side again.

How the hell would he know that if she hadn't even said anything? Maggie guessed her eyes being closed must have given her away.

"Listening to what?" Maggie furrowed her brows into a deep frown.

Merle chuckled and laced his hands together, still kneeling in front of her in a squat. "We got some basic rules in this here group," he explained, glancing around at the others, who Maggie only just now noticed were standing in front of her. Looked like she and one other woman off in the distance were the only women in the group, which caused a sudden feeling of unease to prick at her heart. She didn't like it.

"What kind of rules?" she asked, deciding to play along for now. If this group of Glenn's wound up to be too much, she could always leave.

Merle's smile widened, and Maggie repressed the urge to shiver. She would not give this creep the satisfaction of seeing just how much the guy was getting under her skin. "Well for starters, I'm sort of the boss round here. You follow my orders an' do what I say, and there's a good chance you just might live to survive another day, sweet thing. Hell, paly your cards right, an' you might even last the whole rest of the year. We'll see."

"Now I have to tell you everything all over again, sweet thing. What's your name, sweetheart? We can get to know each other, you an' me." The guy, who looked to be in his late forties or early fifties, with a close-cropped head of dark hair that was almost a military crew cut, knelt.

Maggie instinctively jerked away, not wanting to look him in the eyes, or anyone. A quick glance towards a younger looking guy that shared similar features to this one allowed Maggie's mind to go into overdrive.

Same eyes, similar facial structure. They just had to be related somehow. Brothers or cousins or something. The younger one didn't seem too bad, she guessed, but the one staring her dead in the eyes…

Maggie swallowed nervously, and finally lifted her chin to meet the guy's blue eyes. When she met the older man's gaze, she felt drawn into the guy's eyes. The icy blueness she saw in them generated a feeling like she was being pulled into a lake of frozen emotions, like all the shades of blue that she could think of swirled together to form a whirlpool of apprehension. Maggie could tell by his body language that this stranger did not like her, or perhaps didn't trust her, maybe a combination of both. Either way, those flickering azure orbs confirmed her thoughts.

She was in deep trouble if she couldn't think of a way to save herself.

"Who the hell are you people?" she demanded, swallowing past the frog forming in her throat, wishing she had water. "Where am I?"

It was some kind of camp, that much she knew, deep in the woods.

The younger one spoke up, his thick arms folded across his chest. His light brown hair was cropped close to his head, easier to keep out of the way, though his bangs had started to grow out and his forehead shined with sweat. "We asked you first," he growled, almost more of a grunt.

Maggie quirked her brow his way. So, this guy _did_ talk. He'd been mostly mute for the whole thing, letting this guy do all the talking.

She let out a sigh as Glenn held out a plate of food. A piece of bread, what looked like cheese. She picked up the hunk of whatever it was and sniffed it. Definitely cheese and no mold that she could see. "Maggie."

"Maggie what? Girl's got a last name, don't you?" asked the older one.

She glowered at the man, ripping off a hunk of bread with her teeth. "Greene," she answered at last. "Not that it matters anymore since…"

Her voice trailed off, and she didn't want to complete _that_ thought.

She didn't like the way he was looking at her. "Get that finger out of my face, Grandpa, before I jam it straight up your ass," Maggie growled.

He chuckled. "You're a feisty one, ain't you. I like that. Name's Merle." He jerked his head towards the younger man. "That's my brother, Daryl, an' you already met Glenn, from the sounds of things. You killed any geeks before?" asked the blue—eyed man, still kneeling in a crouch so he could be at her eye-level while she at.

"Any what?" she asked, knitting her brows together in confusion.

"The dead ones," piped up Glenn, a little too enthusiastically, though she could tell by the way his shoulders slumped in relief that he was just glad she was okay, which was kind of a nice feeling to have, if she was being honest with herself. It had been a long time since someone cared.

"Walkers, you mean. My…my dad always called them walkers," she whispered, lowering her voice an octave. "Yeah. I have," she answered, raising her voice slightly so they all could hear her. "Couple dozen, I guess. I've kind of lost count after a while," she admitted. "Is that a problem?" she asked, setting aside her paper plate once she'd finished.

"Nope," answered the younger, regarding her with something akin to curiosity and amusement in his brown eyes. He cocked his head to the side, like a dog did whenever it found something curious and didn't know what to do with it. "You want some deer meat or somethin'?"

"Huh?" Maggie blinked owlishly; not quite sure she'd heard him right. Things seemed to be happening a little too fast for her comfort.

"Deer," he answered, holding out his hand to help her up. Merle noticed and shot his brother a dark look, which he either chose to ignore or missed completely. He motioned with a wave of his arm to follow her.

When she made no move, he rolled his eyes and scoffed. "I ain't gonna bite you. C'mon. It's good meat, gonna go to waste soon, girl."

Maggie scowled, but after exchanging a quick glance with Glenn, who shrugged his shoulders and motioned for her to follow them like he said, she saw no other choice but to follow suit. She had a feeling she could trust Glenn, at least, and maybe that woman, she noticed. There was a girl around her age, maybe not older than twenty-six or so, watching them.

"Who's that?" she whispered, leaning in closer towards Glenn to whisper her questions into the shell of his ear. She noticed he was getting flustered at being so close to her, but she chose to ignore it. Unless he made an ass of himself or something, Maggie could ignore the behavior.

The woman, who stood around five foot four, Maggie guessed, was tiny, with short blonde hair that fell in choppy stray wisps and strands to her chin, and delicately shaped blonde brows and inquisitive brown eyes.

"Molly," answered Glenn quietly. "She came from Crawford, originally," he said, careful to keep his voice low as they walked deeper into the woods, towards what looked to Maggie like a clearing in the path. "But I promised her I wouldn't say anything. Ask her to tell you."

Making a mental note to do just that, Maggie was startled as a sudden shout of fury rent the otherwise silent woodland air around them.

"Son of a goddamn bitch!" came Daryl's voice, sounding pissed off. "This is my deer!" he bellowed, and it sounded like he was wailing on something. If Maggie had to guess, maybe a walker had gotten into it.

When they got to the clearing in the forest, Maggie barely stifled her grin of satisfaction. She'd been right. She pulled a face as he began to cut around the part the now-deceased-for-good walker hadn't gotten at yet.

"Look at it!" he wailed, complaining more to his brother than to any of them. "All chewed on by this—this disease ridden poxy shit-eating bastard!" he growled, reaching out and kicking at the deer's corpse with his boot. "You know what?" he growled, reaching out for his knife. "Screw this shit, I'm cuttin' around the parts this asshole didn't get to."

Glenn let out a tired sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, lifting his red ball cap from his head to scratch at an itch behind his ear. "You wanna calm down, Daryl? The noise might attract some more geeks to the campsite. It's not healthy, what you're doing."

"Why don't you shut the fuck up, Chinglish, because I know what I'm doin'," growled Daryl, and Maggie inexplicably felt her temper swell.

She didn't think the racist insult was warranted, but then again, what she could tell of the brothers, these two were definitely cut from the same cloth. Still, considering Maggie barely knew these people, she stayed silent. It wasn't really her place to get into other peoples' arguments.

"I'm Korean actually," Glenn muttered darkly under his breath. Maggie bit her bottom lip and stuck it out in a slight pout, folding her arms across her chest as she watched the younger Dixon brother slave away over salvaging what parts of the deer he could, rambling on about fresh venison meat over the campfire for a change instead of fish.

For once, Maggie secretly agreed with him. She'd had enough of fish.

Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie could practically feel both Glenn and Merle's stares burning a hole in the back of her skull. She couldn't quite explain it, but Glenn she felt like she had nothing to fear from him.

But Merle on the other hand… He was watching her with his beefy arms folded across his chest, pretending to watch his younger brother work at cutting and cleaning the deer, the stench of the animal's blood filling her nostrils, but her attention was fixated solely on Merle Dixon.

His expression was one of being forced to endure an unpleasant odor, and Maggie knew it wasn't because of the deer his brother was skinning.

Merle's gaze was unwavering and unabashed. Those cold blue eyes didn't travel up to her face or down to her boots, but instead, she could feel his gaze following her as she mutely turned away, and headed back towards the campsite, intrigued and wanting to talk to the only other girl.

His eyes followed her as if really focusing on something a couple of feet further away from Maggie Greene. But Maggie knew his little game.

This wasn't her first time at the rodeo, and she knew how to deal with punks like this one. Or at least, back when the world had been normal, she had. But now, she guessed it was different. Maggie wondered what her father would think of the little predicament she had landed herself in.

Herschel had always told her that a person acts better when they feel better. Make someone feel worse and they would feel worse, in the end.

That's just the way it was. Kindness always won out in the end.

"Maybe in the old days, Daddy, but not anymore," she whispered. Her father, Herschel Greene, had been a proud man. He had been strict, disciplined. He could be short-tempered at times and did some wrong in his life, but he hadn't been a bad man. He'd just been washed with bad experience and born more short-tempered than most men Maggie knew.

In the unexpected moment of thinking of her father, Maggie chose the most perfect moment of her dad that she could and clung to it, desperate to remember him that way. She chose it because in that moment Herschel had been the person he should have been, would have been, had it not been from the stress of life, both before the apocalypse and after. The memory played in her mind like one of those movie reels.

He was laughing relaxed after mowing the lawn. Maggie couldn't have been more than four at the time. He asked her if she wanted a piggyback ride, and of course she'd said yes, what four-year-old didn't?

The gardens of their farm were in fine details. If Maggie craned her head to the sky, she could see the crap apple tree, the weeds in the flower beds. But the finest detail of all was Herschel's face, creased with love and joy—not only for the ride but for being with him, for being her Dad.

Her favorite memories of Dad were the times like that one and when he would tell her and Beth stories in the evenings. When the wizened old man would describe his life, the pair of sisters were instantly transported to another place and time. His voice was slow, and he stumbled on his words at times. Sometimes he was overtaken by emotions that had been buried for decades and he would have to pause. When he gesticulated it was with the creak of age in his bones. At times he would seem excited to tell his daughters a tale. Other times he seemed like he was honoring a solemn duty to remember the fallen.

After speaking for a time, he would often nod off into an afternoon nap and Maggie or Beth would tuck him in under a quilt his late wife had made before heading to bed, locking the door behind them.

It was these memories she was fond on the most, the ones she clung to. She tried her hardest to forget the last time she had seen their faces.

The terror in their eyes, watching them get eaten alive by those _things_. Maggie drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs and fought back the urge to cry. _No. Don't think about it_ , the voices inside her head instructed. _Thinking about that only makes you weak. Be strong_. "Love you, Daddy," she whispered, hating hearing the crack in her voice.

"What?" Glenn asked as he walked with her towards the edge of the clearing and raised a hand to point her back towards the camp. "Did you say something, Maggie?"

"No," she answered immediately, turning her head away sharply, hoping Glenn had seen how pale her face was becoming, and clammy.

She didn't want to talk about her father or her past to anyone yet.

Glenn frowned, and even Maggie could tell he didn't quite believe her, but luckily, he chose not to press it, for which she was grateful. "Site's back that way. Can't miss it. If you're lucky, maybe Molly'll talk to you. She's a nice girl. I think she's around our age. Dunno how old."

_I don't know if any of us do anymore_ , Maggie thought with a resigned sigh. She didn't know why Glenn was telling her any of this.

Almost as if he could read her mind, the young Asian man offered her a wry little smile, though it did not reach his brown eyes. "Because you look like you could use a friend," he answered simply, and did not smile as Maggie felt her jaw drop open in shock. "You hide a lot, don't you?"

"I…" Maggie spluttered, and her voice trailed off as she tried to think of a retort. "I don't…that's—that's none of your business!" she huffed.

Glenn smirked, though she could tell the gesture was meant in jest.

"Calm down, Greene. I didn't mean anything by it. Those other guys, Merle and Dixon? Yeah, they're assholes. Molly will tell you the same thing if you can get her to speak more than two words to you, but if there's one thing that we all know about 'em, is that they're smart."

Maggie snorted, and immediately clamped a hand over her mouth.

Glenn noticed and frowned. "I'm serious. They might not look it, but they know how to survive out here, and we need that right now."

Maggie nodded mutely and offered a tiny wave, glancing back only the once over her shoulder, and she drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs as she caught the older Dixon brother and who she now knew to be the leader of this group staring at her for at least the fifth time.

Merle made no gesture of recognition, no raised hand or stiff nod as he watched their newest recruit to their ranks stomp back towards the campground, his gaze lingering on her ass. No doubt about it, the girl was a real credit to those jeans… She quickened her pace and melted into the thicket of the trees as she made to head back towards the campfire pit.

Maggie could feel him watching her, though she gave no indication that she knew it. Adrenaline flooded her system. It pumped and beat in her heart and bloodstream like it was trying to escape. She felt like the corded muscle was just going to fly right out of her chest and she'd drop dead here on the spot, and then one of these guys would have to kill her again when she re-animated and came back as one of those walkers.

For a brief moment, Maggie was tempted to grab her backpack and just bolt for the safety of deeper into the woods, to keep going until the blisters on the soles of her feet screamed for relief, see how far she could get. But instead, she remained where she was. Let's face it, there was really only one thing she could do. Seeking reassurance, Maggie glanced down at her jeans pocket and patted the tiny Beanie Baby squirrel that Beth had given her, giving it an affectionate little pat on its stuffed head.

_And what's that?_ Nuts' beady little black eyes seemed to ask her.

"Pray no one kills us," Maggie answered, swallowing back the lump forming in her throat. Her adrenaline surged so fast she almost threw up.

She had a feeling she could trust Glenn, though for now, the walls around her heart remained up, and she would be as her father used to like to call it 'cautiously optimistic,' and hopefully the one other girl in the group. Daryl, maybe over time, but Merle, Maggie resolved to keep a close eye on, and silently vowed to herself that if things got bad enough, she'd grab her stuff and sneak away at night. She tended to do better on her own, anyway. There had been a cold burning to Merle's rage.

An ice that scared Maggie if she was being honest with herself. She'd seen that look in other guys' eyes before, mostly when she was in college.

She'd seen that look in her last boyfriend's eyes too, it was how she recognized it. It was how guys like Ethan and now men like Merle showed hatred, dominance, and imparted fear on those who followed them. Guys were like Merle, Maggie knew, were a ticking time bomb.

Always. Any provocation, any insult, no matter how big or small or insignificant, and their fuses would blow, and their tempers would ignite like a forest wildfire, scorching and burning anything in their pathways.

Merle Dixon was a violent creep. She could tell this was the kind of asshole who liked to beat anyone smaller and weaker than himself to a pulp if they so much as looked at him the wrong way and it pissed him off, but then, he'd use his silver smooth-talking tongue to get out of trouble with anyone bigger or stronger or in a better position of power.

As Maggie walked back towards the campsite, towards her newfound uncertain future, the dread the young woman felt crept over her like an icy chill, numbing her brain. In her frozen state of mind, her brain only offered her one thought: _no way out_. There was no avoiding the new reality of her situation. She felt like she was a cow being herded into a truck for the slaughterhouse, only the cow never knows where it was going, and Maggie Greene knew all too well where she was headed.

Straight into the arms of Death.

She shivered as a cold chill suddenly traveled down her spine, and it wasn't because of the dropping temperatures as night slowly came on.

Maggie was going to have to keep an eye on Merle Dixon. A muscle twitched involuntarily at the corner of her right eye, her mouth forming a rigid grimace as she walked, the campsite finally coming into her line of sight. She paused, folding her arms across her chest, and frowning slightly.

This chilly summer's evening in late August would either see the dawn of her new life if everything went well with the others, or… Or she would have a very big problem on her hands and die. Maggie huffed in frustration as she paused, the camp in full view, but she couldn't seem to force her legs to take another step forward.

She just wanted things to go back to normal, to how they used to be. Maggie longed for the air conditioning of the mall, for a hot shower, for her family to still be alive.

Maggie wondered what the other members of this group would be like. She quickly counted on her fingers. Let's see, there was Glenn, Merle, Daryl, this Molly whom she hadn't met yet, and two others, if she wasn't counting herself. The Dixon brothers had made a passing comment about how it was her and Molly were the only two women in the group, which freaked her out to no end, so that meant the remaining two members of the group just had to be guys. She frowned at that.

She highly doubted there were children here, as kids were kind of a liability in this new world, and often the first ones to go besides the old.

Maggie wondered what the other guys in the group would be like, if they would be just as creepy as Merle Dixon. She didn't know a damn thing about them, what their ages were, whether or not they liked to read like she did sometimes, or if they liked the kind of music that she used to, the kind that made her ears bleed. She could feel her bangs stick to the perspiration of her face, and her hand began to shake in a way that she could not control it. All she could do was loop her thumbs into her jeans pockets and hope to look casual, and like that she wasn't really a threat.

It was time for Maggie to go meet the others…


	3. A Moment with Molly and Maggie

**Chapter Three**

Stepping into a place as thick and dense as this forest robbed you of one sense and heightened all the others. It was disorienting to be almost blinded but given the ears of a wolf. Even the soft rustling of the branches in the light Georgia breeze felt heavy in Molly's ears. She drew in a sharp breath and swore under her breath as she felt the tip of her boot connect with something. She glanced down at the forest ground and let out a cry.

It lay on its side, eyes open but unseeing, its mouth slightly open, a fat purple tongue hanging out. Flies buzzed around it its corpse, a swarming mass of insects nearly covered the deer carcasses' whole body. "Gross."

_Dixon's going to be pleased_ , she thought sarcastically, thinking of Daryl. Twenty-six-year-old Molly briefly wondered if Daryl already knew the fate of his deer that he'd spent roughly two days tracking this deer in the woods, only for some walker to come along and consume most of it.

"That's disgusting," she moaned, pinching her nose shut at the smell, trying not to puke. She would have thought by now, she'd be used to it.

Guess not. The poor deer lay at an unnatural angle, legs splayed out and its back painfully arched. It looked as though the geek that had come along and feasted on its flesh had somehow just tossed it aside like some unwanted kid's old rag doll, like one of those creepy Raggedy Ann's her kid sister used to have when she was young. It almost did look like an inanimate object. The walker that did this to the animal had ripped its intestines out of its stomach, eating half of the insides, rendering it pretty much useless for the group to cut away at what little remained of it.

"No venison for us. Guess it's peaches and beans. Again," growled Molly, hating the walker that had done this with every fiber of her being.

Molly gingerly lifted one leg, then the other and stepped over the dead deer, wondering where the hell the Dixon boys and Rhee had gone off to. God knows she had heard the two brothers arguing and going at it.

"It's hard to miss their voices," Molly snorted, rolling her eyes, careful not to get blood on her boots. Blood pooled all around the deer's dead body, thick and crimson in its garish red, staining the white stomach a dull red in color. Molly felt just a twinge of sadness for the animal but knew that this was what nature was about now. Or rather, had always been about and it had taken an apocalypse full of walkers for humanity to come to terms with it. In this new world, it was kill or be killed.

"Survival of the fucking fittest," she snapped, echoing Crawford's leader's words. Or rather, his last words before she had killed him in retribution for allowing her little sister to get killed. Molly wondered since the shit had hit the fan and the world had gone to shit a few years ago now, at least going on two, if she thought back long and hard about it, just how many billions of people had died. And now the world was in a state of ruins. Nothing would ever be the same as it was, and earth was simply a living version of Hell. "What a word," Molly sighed to herself, burying her hands in her pockets.

The petite elfin-like blonde kicked at a pebble with her boot and thought of hell. Hell. That used to be such a fierce word not all that long ago. It was the word used to threaten little kids if they were misbehaving.

Molly had used it on her sister a time or two, and was now feeling incredibly guilty about it, all things considered, given her sister was no longer alive. The word used to send shivers down a person's spine, depending on what they believed, if they believed in God's power or not.

Those creepy fiery demons whose barbed tails coiled and snapped, their wings sharp, their horns like mighty rocks thrusting from their heads.

Wings that reached far and wide to swallow any man that dared to stand before them and claim that they would not go to hell, that they were better. "This though," Molly sighed, glancing around the woods, "is a different kind of hell." It bothered the young blonde that people still felt the need to invent a hell of fire and brimstone, endless torture, and suffering, when there was plenty of it right in front of their noses.

Every single day, someone died, whether it was a bite from one of those geeks, or if they did get bit and didn't get ripped to shreds, then the fever and infection took them, and it wouldn't be long before they became one of those. It bothered Molly to know Hell existed on earth, and this new world of theirs, however fucked up it was, attracted very little care or compassion. If anything, it brought out the worst behavior of mankind.

No help had come for her little sister. Her little sister had only been fourteen when she died, and the people of her fucking neighborhood hadn't helped. She'd gone back to Crawford after parting ways with Lee and had taken care of the neighborhood's leader, who had cast her little sister out. Wasn't too long after her sister's death that Molly ran into Lee and the little girl. Molly thought about the guy from time to time. She hoped he was doing all right. _And the girl, what was her name?_ she wondered. _Had a name like a fruit. Orange? Cherry? No, wait. Started with a C, I think_. "Clementine!" she breathed, feeling her brown eyes go wide and round with excitement as she mimed a fist pump, and a startled little gasp of surprise coming from somewhere behind her told the young blonde woman that she was not alone, and whoever it was, was human.

"Goddamn it," she growled darkly under her breath, reaching for her pickaxe she kept hooked to a strap around her backpack that she always wore on her person whenever going out. It was stealthier than using a gun. "C'mon, Hilda," she sighed, shifting her weapon in her hands, "let's go meet our newest member, shall we?" she said, not expecting an answer. It _definitely_ couldn't have been an undead geek that made the noise. No, the noise had come from a young woman, almost certainly.

Molly drew in a sharp breath and held it with bated breath as she silently inched forward for a closer look. A brunette by the looks of it.

Hiding near the campsite behind a tree, seemingly afraid to go near the campfire pit. Molly smirked. This little meet and greet was going to be easy. Molly knew that look on the young woman's face all too well.

_She's thinking of running away_ , she thought, albeit a little sadly _. Good fucking luck. If she's on her own, no one Merle's gonna let her leave_.

The sense of smell was sensitized, and the blackness of these woods nurtured a weird feeling of claustrophobia inside you, though these goddamned woods stretched onwards, unbroken for probably miles. _I'd be walking for days if I tried to make a break for it_ , she thought dismayed, and the crunching of the leaves underfoot beneath her foot gave away her position to the brunette, who she'd been keeping tabs on.

Glenn had said there was another girl to the group, and though she had been away when the woman had been supposedly brought back to camp, Molly hadn't wanted to believe it for herself until she saw it with her own eyes. And now, well…here they were together. Molly's first instinct was to feel relieved that there was finally someone her own age to talk to.

But her second instinct, the one that had kept her alive the longest, the one she relied on the most more than the first, still harbored a twinge of caution towards this woman. After all, she didn't know her, not really.

Molly watched as the young brunette whirled around, clearly startled and had not expected that anybody would have been spying on her now.

She raised her pickaxe in defense, but once she saw the girl had no weapon in her hand to defend herself, and there was no mistaking that genuine look of surprise in those big brown eyes of hers, Molly felt the tension in her shoulders relax and leave her body almost immediately.

"You must be the new girl Glenn picked up in the city," Molly breathed, lowering her pickaxe, just slightly, though still keeping the tip of the tool at eye-level with the girl. The new arrival rolled her eyes and offered a playful little smirk, which was not what Molly had been expecting, so it kind of lowered her defenses. "My name's Molly."

"Does he pick up a lot of girls?" she muttered sarcastically, and that comment earned a tiny smile from Molly, though she did not lower her weapon all the way, though it did drop about another half inch.

"Maggie Greene," answered the brunette steadily, as if she had realized she had forgotten to say her name at first, her gaze never breaking with Molly's. She drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs as Molly lowered the hood of her red and black hoodie sweatshirt, reaching up a hand to sweep back a lock of choppy short blonde hair behind her ear.

"Molly," came her curt reply in response. Sensing the other woman's hesitation, she glanced down at the pickaxe in her hands, before lowering it and setting it down near her own backpack, which had been resting against the base of a tree. "Sorry," she apologized sheepishly. "Didn't mean to scare you. Guess you can't be too quick to trust people these days. You never know who's a walker these days. Or a bad guy. They told me we had another girl to our ranks," she added, a note of approval in her voice as she gave the young brown-haired woman a quick once over. She was cute enough, around Molly's age, maybe a year or two older, with a slender figure and a good facial structure. Pretty hair.

"No, I guess not," the woman called Maggie agreed, nodding her head in response, though Molly could tell how skittish she was, as if she expected the very Georgia air they were all breathing in to somehow attack them both. Granted, Molly supposed she couldn't blame her for exhibiting this kind of behavior. After all, Merle had hit her unconscious, albeit having saved her life from a couple of geeks in the process, nevertheless, it did not change the fact that Merle Dixon had brought her here against her will. To Molly's knowledge, no one had asked Maggie Greene if she had wanted to come back with Glenn. At least, as far as she knew anyways, that was the story. Molly frowned and shook her head to clear her mind. Maggie was saying something to her, and she wanted to focus. "Glenn seems nice though, I guess," she breathed, and Molly stifled the urge to break into laughter. There was no mistaking that note of hope in the pretty brown-haired woman's voice. "Not like…"

"Not like Merle," Molly finished dryly. She let a chuckle escape her as she worked quickly to fasten her pickaxe to the back of her backpack, groaning as she hoisted the thing over her shoulders. Not that it was necessarily heavy, but whenever she did have to leave their encampment for something, she preferred to travel as light as possible. It was the rules.

Or more importantly, Merle's rules. Whenever they went scouting for food or supplies, they carried as little as possible and took only what they needed. Anything that weighed them down would get left behind.

His rules included people, which was why Molly and Glenn preferred to go it alone whenever the two of them were sent out to scavenge.

"Pretty much everybody here except for one of Merle's guys and Merle himself are likeable people," Molly relented after an awkward silence.

Maggie frowned; her arms folded across her chest in suspicion. The way her hips jutted out and the way her head was tilted to the side suggested to Molly that Maggie Greene of Atlanta didn't fully trust her word yet.

_And why should she?_ Her conscience offered. _She doesn't know you!_

"Is he?" she questioned, as she made to follow Molly after Molly gestured for Maggie to follow her back to the campsite, though not, it should have been noted, without some great difficulty, Molly noticed.

Molly could not help but notice that whatever was weighing on Maggie Greene's mind, whatever that thing happened to be was causing her a great deal of stress, if judging by the way she was wringing her fingers together, nervously so, weaving her fingers in and out of her knuckles.

Almost like whatever she was thinking about was waging some kind of internal war and great conflict on her mind, but finally, something in her must have relented, because it wasn't long before Maggie Greene jogged to catch up to Molly. Molly knew that everyone had flaws and quirks, and if they had been polished right out then trust wasn't even an option.

But something in her conscience told her she could trust Maggie. She had only known her all of maybe five minutes, but long enough to decide that she liked her. Maybe it was due to the fact that Molly hadn't been around another girl close to her own age in what had to be months.

"Not since Crawford," she sighed, and Molly realized perhaps a fraction too late that she had spoken the statement out loud. She cringed and visibly winced as she noticed Maggie's brown eyes light up with intrigue.

"What the hell is Crawford?" Maggie asked, though not unkindly. Maggie had noticed Molly's sudden standoffish attitude and change in friendly demeanor. She held in a sharp breath and waited for Molly to speak.

"I don't even know what that is," Maggie confessed.

"It was…a place. Where I…where I was from," Molly whispered, not even realizing that her voice had lowered an octave as she began speaking, her tongue seemingly no longer taking directions from her brain, though her mind was screaming at her to stop talking about her past to this woman, who, although seemed nice enough, was still essentially a stranger for now. At least until they got to know her better.

"What happened?" Maggie prodded gently, keeping her voice low. Something about the young blonde's tone prompted her to be cautious.

"When everything started going to shit, people in our neighborhood got together and sealed it off. That was Crawford, where I lived. Folks were willing to do pretty much anything to stay alive," Molly growled. "Some of us didn't like it and tried to avoid them as much as possible."

"Why?" Maggie was curious, but she really hoped she wasn't prying. After all, she didn't even know this woman, yet here they both were.

Molly furrowed her brow into a frown as the pair of women finally reached the campfire pit. She heaved a heavy sigh and flung her backpack off her back, reaching up a hand and rubbing tenderly at her shoulder.

"Enough with the questions," she snapped. Realizing perhaps that came across as a little harsher than she intended to, when she recognized just how cold and unwelcoming her voice sounded, Molly's gaze softened.

It wasn't Maggie's fault. She didn't know and couldn't have known.

Molly sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "Let's just say they had a zero-tolerance policy for anyone who won't or couldn't live by their rules. My…my sister and I were among that group." Molly turned her head away sharply, and Maggie knew when enough was enough. When it was time to let go for now.

Making a mental note to ask her about again later, Maggie mutely nodded. "Whatever happened to you, I'm sorry," she whispered. "I lost my family too."

Molly's head whiplashed upwards. "Who said anything about me being alone?" she snapped, unable to keep the note of bitterness out of her tone. Before the young woman could so much as respond, Molly was going on a rampage, not even aware she was yelling at Maggie. "I don't give a damn what you have to say to me," Molly hissed, taking a few steps forward and leaning in close so the tip of her nose was practically touching Maggie's, "the people I lived with fucking killed my sister. I'm not angry about it," she growled, seeing Maggie open her mouth to say something. "No way. I'm fucking bitter, and that's worse. Way worse. Angry is over fast, bitter lasts until the end of goddamn time if you let it."

"I'm sorry," Maggie croaked out, her voice sounding hoarse. When Molly lifted her chin and blearily tried to focus her gaze a few feet in front of herself, and dared to meet Maggie Greene's eyes, she wasn't surprised to see the young brunette's eyes were filled with sympathy.

Molly turned her head away sharply so Maggie wouldn't see she was blinking back briny tears, though she sniffed once or twice, and Molly had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that Maggie already knew.

It bothered her that she couldn't put her finger on that other emotion that was currently flickering through the young woman's brown orbs.

And…something else, though what that feeling was, Molly didn't have time, nor did she want to pinpoint exactly what that thing might be.

Anger boiled deep in her system, as hot as lava as old memories were brought to the surface that Molly would just as sooner rather forget.

The rage she felt at the injustice of her sister's death churned within the pits of her stomach, still hungry for destruction, and the asshole who had killed her sister was long since dead. She buried Hilda in the guy's head.

And that prick of a doctor who forced her to sleep with him to get her sister's meds? She'd throw him off a roof. And yet, even with both of them gone, she still felt pissed. She'd known killing them wasn't going to bring her sister back, but…the pressure of this raging anger she felt in the confines of her chest forced her to do and say things a lot lately.

Things she didn't mean. Like the shit she'd just said to Maggie, who was only trying to be kind. And now, Molly felt like total shit and a bitch. "I'm sorry," Molly breathed, feeling the tension melt away as her shoulders slumped in defeat. She huffed in frustration and hung her head.

"It's okay," Maggie offered quietly, though Molly heard it in the woman's voice that she had been bothered by Molly's little outburst.

_Just fucking great_ , Molly thought darkly, folding her arms across her chest and shrinking into her red and black hoodie as much as she could for warmth. It was going to get cold here, how the hell wasn't Maggie even cold, not even a little bit? One quick glance over at Maggie pretty much told Molly everything she needed to know about Maggie Greene.

The woman didn't even own a single sweater or jacket, and all she had one was the blue jeans she wore, her boots, and a plaid short sleeve shirt.

Molly furrowed her brows into a frown and quirked an eyebrow Maggie's way at her clothes. "Aren't you cold? It's gonna start getting colder here in about a week or two. It's freaking September, and you're dressed like that?" she asked, jerking her head towards Maggie's shirt.

Maggie glanced down, seeing nothing wrong with it. "Why?"

"You're going to need clothes," Molly sighed, taking on the tone of someone who sounded like they were talking to a twelve-year-old kid.

"I've got clothes," Maggie retorted, hearing her own voice get defensive. She bristled, feeling the prickly nature of her father's personality start to seep into her voice. "What's wrong with them?"

Molly groaned, and if Maggie wasn't mistaken, her expression had softened since they had changed the topic of conversation to something a little more pleasant and she heard the shift in her tone as she spoke.

"Guess next time we make a supply run, you'll have to come with me," she joked, glancing over her shoulders as she plopped down on a chair near the campfire pit. The group had set up multiple tents scattered throughout Merle's so-called 'base camp.' It wasn't much, but enough.

"Why?" Maggie asked, knitting her brows together in confusion. If she wasn't mistaken, and she liked to think about these kinds of things she usually wasn't, it sounded like Molly had forgiven her for asking too many questions and prying and was even attempting to befriend her.

Molly scrunched her nose and made a face. "So, we can loot whatever's left in the department stores and find you some clothes, that's your answer to your 'why,' Greene," she teased playfully and shot her a wink.

"Oh." Maggie let out a sigh as she got herself situated in the spare chair close to Molly, though, Moly noticed, still keeping somewhat of a safe distance between the two of them. Maggie couldn't quite explain it, and she wasn't even sure she would be able to if someone asked, but she knew that in the fifteen minutes or so of meeting Molly that she liked her. Maggie rested her chin in her hands and kept her eyes keenly trained on the fire that someone—probably one of the guys, though Maggie hadn't seen anyone else since she and Molly had entered the campsite—had lit. She wondered when the others would show up to eat.

Almost as if on cue, her stomach elicited a low, almost painful growl. Maggie groaned and clutched her stomach. It felt like days since she'd really eaten last. A snort nearby from Molly told Maggie that she heard.

The fire projected long shadows on the surrounding areas. The light cast by the flames danced across the dark trunks of the trees, twisting, and curling in weird shapes and providing for the girls a small radius of light.

The fire itself was pulsating, the glowing embers seemed to move in rhythm with the flames, matching every dip and sweep. It was mesmerizing to watch, colors of orange and red gave way to yellow and white near the center, where the emanating heat was the greatest.

"You hungry?" Molly asked, a teasing sheen to her voice almost.

"You could say that," Maggie groaned, glancing around for her pack, and feeling another prick of fear stab her heart and turning her blood to ice. "Wait," she breathed, glancing around the campsite. "My—my backpack, where is it?" she demanded, looking to Molly for confirmation.

But her panicked state vanished almost immediately as Molly shot the woman a coy little smirk and lifted up Maggie's backpack, a simple bag made of black nylon and wasn't very big. Truth be told, it was the same one she'd used during her college days, but it was durable, made of nylon and kept all her essentials dry in inclement weather, which was a bonus.

Maggie bit her bottom lip in a slight pout as Molly unzipped the outermost compartment of her bag without even waiting to be asked.

"Let's see what you brought us," crooned Molly, humming to herself as she rummaged through Maggie's belongings, a fact which kind of made Maggie feel like her privacy was being violated. Molly, sensing Maggie's irritation, glanced up from taking a quick peek and added, "Merle's rules. You know, the whole what's mine is yours thing?" she chirped happily.

Maggie didn't but very well couldn't protest. For all she knew if she tried to leave this place, Merle Dixon, and his band of goons would just hunt her down again, so she kept silent and watched while Molly continued her foraging, pulling out the items one by one. First came the big bag of potato chips that she'd swiped, a couple cans of beans, some crackers, the liter of soda, and the empty reusable water bottle.

The last item Molly almost laughed at as she procured one of those packets of instant ramen noodles, of which Maggie had swiped at least a dozen, enough to feed her for at least a week if she portioned them out.

Of course, that had been before she'd found herself in the company of others. She'd not anticipated that she would run into anyone on her run.

"You stole rolls?" Molly cackled and erupted into a giggling fit as she chucked the unopen can of Pillsbury rolls into Maggie's lap. "Why?"

"To eat them," mumbled Maggie, feeling the heat creep to her cheeks. But then the idea came to her. Since they were in front of a lit fire, might as well eat. She retrieved her dagger from her sheath and popped the lid off. "Do you have something I can use? We can cook these over the fire. It's not much but better than letting these all go to waste," she quickly explained, stifling her smile as a light ignited in Molly's eyes.

"Yeah!" she breathed, a note of excitement in her voice now. "Wait here a sec, I'll get it!" Maggie didn't have to wait long as the young blonde disappeared behind a couple of trees and ducked into a tent.

She emerged back at the campfire pit a few seconds later with a heavy looking iron skillet, in which Maggie quickly placed the uncooked roll dough. The women chatted in silence for a moment, until the sound of a twig snapping and leaves crunching beneath a pair of heavy footfalls jolted Maggie out of the momentary good feeling and euphoria she was having.

"Well, well, look what we got here," breathed Merle Dixon, sounding highly amused with himself, accompanied by a strange burly looking man that Maggie hadn't met yet, and looked like he'd been a pro football player or even a body builder in his previous life. The guy was all muscle, with thick veins that stood out prominently against slightly tanned skin, and a shiny bald head. He was young enough, maybe in his late thirties.

"Nice of you ladies to cook a meal for us. We got out an' risk our necks for you pretty little things, least you can do is feed us," his companion said, a glimmer of intrigue in his eyes as his gaze landed on Maggie, his eyes lingering on her chest longer than Maggie would have ever liked.

Merle shot his friend a dark look and clapped him on the back.

"Jack, this is the little lass I was tellin' you 'bout earlier. Greene."

_So, that's his name_ , Maggie thought, her dark eyes narrowing as the guy who she now knew to be called Jack sauntered over behind the girls at almost a slow, leisurely pace, like he wasn't in a hurry, and stood there.

"You're named after a fuckin' color?" he asked, sounding appalled.

Maggie huffed in frustration, tucking a lock of hair back behind her ear. She glanced around and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Glenn emerge from the brush behind him, carrying an armful of what looked like dead rabbit and squirrel. Definitely didn't seem as good as the deer from earlier the younger Dixon brother had found, but it'd have to do.

She decided it couldn't hurt to tell this guy her name, if only to get him to back off. "Maggie," she answered curtly, making sure her voice sounded distant and cold. She really hoped this Jack guy got the message.

"Maggie," Jack repeated, letting her name roll off his tongue. Maggie cringed, not liking the way her name sounded, coming from him, like oil on water, and it was only when the others, Merle, Daryl, and Glenn accompanied her and Molly around the campfire that she wasn't quite sure what she was dealing with here. All she knew was that she and Molly were the only women in a small group of men, sequestered in the middle of nowhere in the damn woods, where anything could happen to her.

Maggie was beginning to wonder exactly just what it was that she had allowed herself to get into. She wondered if she made the right decision in coming back with Glenn. Glenn seemed nice enough, but still…

It wasn't enough to shake the feelings of unease that had begun to fester in her heart. All she knew was that she didn't like how Merle Dixon was looking at her.

Not one bit…


	4. Unwanted Advances

**Chapter Four**

The heat from the campfire Molly had built seemed to be sucked into the frigid night air before ever reaching their frozen hands. Glenn added more wood and poked at it with long sticks, and it seemed to die a little, as if it were unsure of itself, unready to devour the new offerings. But after a time, the fire found its confidence and grew until the heat warmed them, orange flames celebrated with their wild flickering dance. It would have to last the night. Someone would have to stay up and nurse it through the darkest hours, guard it, feed it, make sure no walkers were drawn to it. Maggie was more than willing to volunteer for this, if only so she could have an excuse to always keep a watchful eye on Merle. But sooner or later, she knew she would have to get some sleep, and it quickly became apparent to her that this particular job fell to Glenn, who, Maggie noted, had been shooting her interested glances all throughout dinner, a pitiful supper of canned beans and peaches, made only better by the fact that they could at least warm the beans over the fire, and the added bonus of the can of rolls that Maggie had swiped from the convenience store were amazingly somehow still good was pretty much a treat to everyone else here.

Maggie swallowed nervously as she felt Merle's gaze linger. Finally, just to break the silence, she asked the question that was burning on the tip of her tongue, though she avoided everyone's gazes while looking at them. "So…what did you all do…before?"

They did not need to ask her what 'before' meant.

"College," answered Molly. "I was gonna study to be a doctor, but…"

"Then the world went to hell and that was that," Maggie finished.

"Army," grunted Merle through a mouthful of squirrel meat.

"Drifted," answered Daryl in one word like his brother.

_Those two are definitely cut from the same cloth,_ Maggie thought and let out a heavy sigh. It was Jack's answer though, that surprised her and wasn't quite what she had been expecting from this guy.

"I worked in an accounting firm. GS Accountants," he answered steadily, fixing Maggie with a surprisingly cold glower that sent a shiver down Maggie's spine.

"Oh." She wasn't really sure what else. Judging by his clothes and his general demeanor, to say nothing of his manners and the way he seemed to regard women, Maggie was having a hard time envisioning this guy as an accountant for some big firm, probably had formerly lived in Atlanta.

Desperate to avoid both Jack's and Merle's piercing gaze, she turned to Glenn, who was getting this strange little smirk on his face that quickly dissipated when he realized Maggie was now looking at Glenn.

"And you?" she pressed, shoveling another spoonful of peaches into her mouth to hopefully avoid making the situation any more awkward. "What about you, Glenn? What did you do before the world went to shit?"

He flushed red and turned away, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

"I uh…delivered pizzas," he mumbled, the heat creeping onto his cheeks as he looked away, removing his red baseball cap and scratching at an itch behind his ear as he stared into the campfire's flames as though he could not hear Maggie's voice. "Place in Atlanta's called Denny's."

Maggie felt a small smile creep up onto her face. "Pizza sure sounds good right about now," she sighed wistfully. "A really big cheese one."

"Ain't nothin' wrong with that, Chinglish," Merle laughed, clamping a cigarette between his jaws, and lighting it. "Pizza Boy over here is fast on 'is feet. Knows how to get in an' out. Dontcha, boy?" he added, fixing Glenn with an unusually stern look. "We're gonna need your skills here in a day or two, Zippy." Merle shared a weird look with Jack.

Maggie felt her gaze drifting to Molly to see if the other young woman saw what she did. One glance over at Molly's face was more than enough. She did. There was no mistaking that predatory smile in Merle's eyes, almost a wolfish smile as his gaze lingered on Maggie longer than he would have liked. Oh, Merle was talking to Glenn all right, but his gaze was fixated on Maggie the entire time, and she didn't like it. Not one bit.

Glenn looked up, flustered. "M—me?" he stammered, his gaze darting between Maggie and Merle a couple of times before realizing that no one was going to come help him out of this. "B—but why? What for?"

"Guns," answered Merle curtly, finally tearing his gaze away from Maggie and focusing on a spot on the tree trunk behind Maggie's head.

"There's an armory not far from where you found Maggie," breathed Jack, a note of excitement seeping into his voice now. "They probably still have most of their guns in the storage unit, if we could just get in there."

"Doubt it," Molly piped up, the scowl on her face deepening. "Whatever was in there before has probably long since been picked over by folks who got smart and headed out of the city before they bombed it."

"Why don't you shut the fuck up, bitch and let the grown men speak?" growled Jack, turning his annoyance on Molly, who flipped him the bird, but reluctantly, after a withering glare from Merle that would have had the power to wilt a flower had he the ability, Molly relented and fell quiet. He was staring at Maggie now in a way that made the young woman feel incredibly uneasy and nervous. "I know what I'm talkin' about, an' if I say there's gonna be guns there, then that's where we'll find 'em. We want Glenn to go with us," he breathed. "An' you," he added, motioning to Molly. She must have decided it was fruitless to argue, for Molly simply shrugged her shoulders and motioned to Maggie not to argue.

The others, sensing the conversation had taken a dry spell, wandered off on their own. Molly went off with Glenn to gather more kindling, leaving Maggie huddled near the fireplace with none other than Merle Dixon, Jack having gone off into the woods. To do what, Maggie didn't give a shit or wanted to know.

Maggie quickly stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, though not fast enough for Merle not to have noticed. "I saw that," he grunted, though the corners of his mouth twitched, as though fighting back a smile. He jerked his thumb back behind them. "Your tent is over there, dollface," he grinned. "Sweet dreams…"

Maggie felt herself involuntarily shiver at the 'term of endearment' the oldest Dixon brother had for her. "It's Maggie," she growled.

Merle's head whiplashed upright, and his blue eyes narrowed until they were almost mere slits as he regarded the young woman in silence for what felt like several long, excruciatingly painful seconds. "What?" he growled, the noise escaping him from the back of his throat before he could stop himself. "What did you just say?" he snarled, and Maggie barely had any time to react as he bolted from his spot on the tree stump he'd been resting on and grabbed her by her wrist, squeezing it hard enough to break it.

Merle let his eyes slide over Maggie Greene's body, adding up her pluses and minuses like a math problem. If she ranked high enough, he'd put her on his radar, line her up with the other women he wanted to add to his list of conquests, namely these days, just her.

Not that the young one, Molly, wasn't cute enough (she was) just that the former girl from Crawford wasn't his type. He'd always preferred brunettes over blondes. Merle quickly decided that the Greene woman was a nine. He was a ten. Though Merle decided Maggie's only reason for being a nine and not a perfect ten was due to two things. Her feisty personality, and her mouth, which if she didn't learn to quickly keep that in check, was going to get her into _serious_ trouble and not just him. There might come a day when the Greene girl finds herself in a spot of trouble that she can't get out of and he wouldn't be around to save her sorry little whining ass.

The second, Merle admitted, was the woman's breasts. Not large enough. Some of the guys he knew said they liked the athletic look, but frankly, he saw the way Jack had been look at her earlier.

Merle liked that—the jealousy. The hotter the chick, the better…

The man tightened his grip on Maggie's wrist and raised her arm against her head, slamming her against the trunk of a tree, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one else was coming. "Good."

Merle turned back towards Maggie, all the previous 'charm,' when he'd been around the others, if Maggie could even call it that, gone. His mouth had formed into a rigid, straight line, the blue sparkle in his eyes extinguished. He moved so close she could feel his hot breath on her face that smelled like cigarette smoke and spoke just four words to her. "Take off your shirt."

Maggie drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs as he swept her ear over her ear and kissed her neck hard, pushing her back against the trunk of the tree, the bark digging into Maggie's back.

She let out a hiss and shoved him violently away, not that it did much good. He outweighed her by a ton at least and was a lot stronger than she was. "Get off of me!" Maggie snarled, raising her voice, hoping that someone—Glenn, Molly, or even Daryl—would come and put a stop to Merle's sudden unexpected behavior.

Their so-called 'leader' wasn't behaving as he ought to. If he were, he wouldn't be doing this for a start, and he should want to know something about her if she was going to be staying with them a while, anything. Maggie swallowed nervously, looking at him. She had to find a way to reach him, to make him understand.

Maggie tried again. "My name's…"

"Don't need your name," growled Merle. "I already know it. And besides, that just complicates things. _Dollface_ ," he sneered. He shoved her back against the trunk of the oak tree.

Maggie's insides went cold. This wasn't run. She froze as he reached up both hands and began to tug at her shirt, his strong fingers curling into fists around her plaid shirt. "No!" she shouted, pushing back against his chest, not that it did her much good.

Merle moved his head back to meet her eyes. "I know your type, bitch," Merle growled, lifting up a hunk of her dark brown hair and smelling it. Maggie shuddered, but refused to avert her gaze.

"What am I?" snapped Maggie, feeling her own temper swell.

He smirked, recognizing he was finally getting somewhere with this one. He'd have her yet, before the night was out, he was sure.

"I know you. You're just a—a bit of rough from the gutter, girl. There is no fuckin' Prince Charming coming to save you from those walkers. I'm the best you got, girl, so you best follow me."

Maggie's stomach lurched and she fought back the urge to be sick. Still, she had to try to reason with this asshole. It was her only shot. Otherwise, well…she didn't like to think of the alternative.

"Welcome to your new fuckin' life, sweetheart," snarled Merle. "Buncha one-night hookups, lonely regrets. Not like we got us a choice these days," he sighed, looking away for a moment before returning his attention back to Maggie, whose brown eyes were wide with fear. "The world ain't gonna get any better. We're all we've got."

When Maggie still did not respond, he began to grow angry.

"It's what you're made for, _dollface_ ," Merle sneered.

That last insult was the breaking point of Maggie's patience. At the moment, she was blinded by a five-course serving of rage that tasted bitter in her mouth, yet somehow strangely satisfying still. Maggie wrenched her arm somehow miraculously out of Merle's grasp, drew her arm back as far as she could. She had never punched anyone before, so she was incredibly surprised at the pain that blazed up her arm as her fist connected with Merle's jaw.

She hadn't been thinking when she let out her boiling antipathy and swung her tight fist, too quick and potent into Merle Dixon's defined jaw. The impact was like thousands of venomous blades piercing apart her clammed fist. It led her to one conclusion. That it really fucking hurt.

Merle merely laughed. He gestured with his arms to the wide-open air around the two of them, as if taunting her to come closer.

"That all you got?" he jeered, sounding like he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Maggie swallowed hard as she found her voice…and her resolve.

When she finally spoke, even she was surprised at the coldness in her tone. "My _name_ ," she whispered, balling her hands into fists at her side as she rose to her feet, "is Maggie. Not _dollface_ , not _sweetie_ , or _sweetheart_ , or whatever else you usually call the women in your life. If there are any, old man," growled Maggie angrily, hardly daring to believe the words that were streaming like putrid venom out of her mouth, "My _name_ is Maggie. And this is my home now I guess, if I have no other choice, seeing as your little boy toy over there is pulling guard duty" she stated calmly, lifting her gaze briefly to meet Jack's eyes, who was standing close enough to take an entrance, but respectfully standing back several hundred feet, enough to give their leader his privacy, but still staying within range in the event of trouble. Maggie let out a growl from the back of her throat, taking two steps forward towards Merle, jabbing a sharp finger in his chest, propelling him backward.

"So, if I'm going to be a member of your… _group_ , and if you want me to stay with you, then you'll start to call me by my _name_ ," she demanded angrily. "Maggie Greene. Start using it." Maggie whirled around on the heel of her boot and stormed off before Merle could so much as say another word to the new arrival.

That was a first, he had to admit, another girl hitting him like that. It had left him speechless…and aroused…

* * *

Maggie knew it was foolish to wander away from the encampment like this given that it had to be at least midnight and she was essentially alone in the wilderness and who knew how many walkers or other beasts that were out here, but she didn't care. She grabbed her backpack on the way out, not giving a damn if anyone saw her leaving at this rate. She was better off alone.

Maggie hoisted her backpack up onto her shoulders, and searched wildly for Nuts, making sure the little stuffed Beanie Baby of hers was still in her jeans pocket right where she had left him. He was.

"Good boy," she whispered affectionately. "Let's get out of here."

_What about Glenn?_ The little McDonald's Beanie Baby seemed to ask her. _He did kind of save your life, after all. What about him?_

"If he wants to leave this place, he will," whispered Maggie. "I have to get out of here, it isn't safe for me. For us," she stammered.

Briefly, she wondered what Daddy and Beth would think if they could see her now. Barely escaped from being molested and talking to a miniature Beanie Baby squirrel as though it could talk back.

Maggie paused at the edge of the ravine. As soon as her mind had calmed down and she stopped silently fuming, she was able to start thinking her way out of this mess she had gotten herself into now.

If she ran, no matter what, Merle and his goon Jack would be sure to catch her. But then again, if she stayed, she was as good as dead.

She'd been taken, raped, shoved around, ordered around like nothing but a slave, and she wasn't about that life. She was briefly tempted to find Molly and beg the other girl to come away with her. Maggie liked Molly well enough and didn't want her to suffer.

_That's ridiculous_ , her dark voice inside in her chastised her _. You barely know her. You met her and talked to her all of maybe thirty minutes, and you already want her to come away with you? What if she kills you? Stabs you in the back with that pickaxe of hers the moment you turn your back on her. Then what? You'll have died for nothing!_

"If I stay here, I'm as good as dead," Maggie whispered to herself, looking around. As far as she could tell, she only had two choices.

Up or down. Down meant all the way down that forest ravine and buried in leaf litter, but she didn't want to risk falling down that place and possibly breaking her ankle, and she didn't really have time to dig a depression to conceal her bulk or her backpack.

So, that left her with up, which was safer and faster. Mostly.

Her dilated pupils scanned the dark for the best tree, it had to be tall, lost of branches to climb and enough leaves left from the beginning of fall coming on to give Maggie and her bag cover.

Maggie's options were fairly limited, but she was able to pick out a mature-looking Beech tree. The rough bark scuffed at her skin as she began to climb, grunting slightly with the effort. From what limited knowledge she had of Merle and the other guys, they weren't avid climbers or nimble like she was. Like she guessed Molly was. Once she was a safe distance up on a secure enough branch, Maggie breathed a heavy sigh of relief, her shoulders slumping. She had made it. Her skin shuddered as the last light of the moon from above snaked away behind a thick gray cloud.

She could feel her brain starting to de-focus, searching for another way out. "But where would we go?" she asked, pulling Nuts out of her pocket, and giving it a tight little squeeze. For a minute, she felt like she was six again instead of twenty, holding the Beanie Baby in her hand. "Beth was so excited to give you to me, remember that?" His beady little black eyes stayed fixed on her as she held it in her palm. Maggie let out a dark, bitter laugh and stroked Nuts' head.

She should have known it was a bad idea to find another group. "Maybe we should get out of Georgia entirely," whispered Maggie, careful to keep her voice low. "Make for the coast maybe." When the apocalypse began, it was rumored that the island types defended themselves and stood the best chance of staying alive.

The big land masses were a mess with the virus mutating as it ran through such large populations. The navy was rumored to patrol those islands, with the fighter jets and the helicopters in the skies. No one got in or out once it started—it was either a 'total shut out' or everyone would get infected. Maybe that was the right approach. Only let in the people who were healthy, and strong. _Molly had said something about Crawford doing the same thing. Maybe…maybe those people were right_ , Maggie thought, and immediately regretted thinking such a horrible, dark thought.

Maggie felt her eyelids begin to grow heavy as she drifted into consciousness. And then back out. The world was a blur, and random images seemed to float aimlessly around in the pool of her thoughts, as though they were being blown about viciously by a hurricane. A tap on her shoulder momentarily brought Maggie back to the outside world, but after a second, she was once again lost. Maggie could feel somebody trying to look at her—was it Merle or Jack or Glenn?—and staring dead in the eye, but she couldn't keep focus long enough to wonder how the hell they'd managed to find her and climb the tree after her. The whole world simply felt low resolution, a bad quality movie. Confusion blossomed in her heart and Maggie knew that sooner or later she would need to wake up.

To stare reality in the face. But for now, she retreated into wallowing blackness and drifted into an uneasy, dreamless sleep.


	5. Not the Only One Who's Lonely

**Chapter Five**

Maggie watched the ever-burning fire that blazed outside of her window, at the edge of the Greene Farm's property. She couldn't breathe, nor could she hear her heart in her chest. Maggie was alive and watching everything burn, and her family was literally getting ripped to pieces and eaten right before her very eyes. What had once been peaceful and beautiful cracked and wilted under the weight of the weightless fire, and countless numbers of the undead swarmed the Greene's farmlands.

Maggie screamed, tears streaming down her face in a constant flow, seemingly unending. The wind caught the fire and pushed it at an enormous speed down the dirt path towards her as the fire continued to spread. She heard her father's advice ringing in her ears, among his screams. "Run for the river!" His last words to her as he was consumed.

Not wanting to stick around to see the rest of her family die, knowing she was too late to save them, Maggie did as Herschel instructed and ran.

She jumped the 'break ditch,' and after that came the logs and downed limbs. Her legs and arms ached from the heavy load of her backpack on her back. Her muscles screamed and begged for relief. Her mind wanted her to keep going, get as far away from the Greene farm as possible.

There was nothing for her here, not anymore. All that remained was ashes. Maggie scrunched her nose in disgust as she jumped into the water.

She swam to the other side. The fire finally stopped at the river's edge, though Maggie could feel the heat from eighty yards away. Maggie waited until the last of the fire finally went out, thanks to a rainstorm.

Though she had to wait about eight hours for it to pass, Maggie wasn't sure she wanted to return to the farm to scope out the damage and check for survivors. But she owed it to her father. "Maybe one of them is alive." Even as she spoke the words, she knew it was a hopeless wish.

Maggie swallowed back the lump in her throat as she approached the remnants of the Greene farm. Maggie knelt and touched the chars and ashes of what had once been their farmhouse, watching her pale skin become charcoal gray as the ashes continued to fall from the gray sky.

The wood that had been her shelter growing up as a kid, her comfort in every thunderstorm and other bad event in her life, lay charred at her boots. Somewhere in this mess was pieces of her life, her memories, the person she had become since the pandemic that wiped out most of the population. All of Maggie and Beth's books were ash. She wasn't exactly sure what she had been expecting to feel by touching what was left.

Some vibrancy of her lost home, perhaps. In the end, all that happened was the odor of smoke and ash filling her mouth, nostrils, and lungs—as if her own grief wasn't punishment enough. Maggie had failed her family.

A low, raspy, guttural groan from behind Maggie broke the young woman out of her grief. She turned, not really sure what to expect now.

The zombie was blind. Its eye had been gouged by its last victim, and as Maggie's gaze drifted downward, she felt all the color drain from her face.

Tangled in its broken fingers was the remains of Beth's beaded bracelet. She had made one for Maggie too that she still wore around her wrist, having been so excited this summer to come home from her music camp.

"That's Beth's," she whispered. Maggie swallowed hard as she inched forward for a closer look, ignoring the rasping moans of the walker in front of her. It looked as though Beth had tried to gouge out its way, one last desperate attempt to stay alive as the thing's jaws ripped out her throat. Its snake-like brown-gray intestines dragged in the dirt as it staggered towards Maggie using only its ears and what was left of its nose for guidance. Another glance at the creature's clothes confirmed something else. Caught in its shirt pocket, or what used to be its shirt, was the little stuffed squirrel Beth had given her one year in her stocking for Christmas. She'd been so proud of it, having used her own pocket money from chores to buy it for her big sister. That was _hers_ , not his.

Fuming, Maggie picked up the nearest stone she could find.

She threw it to the right side of the barn. It halted momentarily, and she could hear the bones in its stiffened neck creak as it turned its monstrous head. Then with a snapping of its jaws, it lurched forward in the other direction. Maggie needed no other cue. She stuck out her leg and tripped the walker, the creature making a horrible snarling, snapping noise as it fell. A cry of rage and pent-up grief escaped Maggie's lips as she stabbed the walker in the head with her father's dagger, over and over again.

Maggie didn't care that the thing's blood now covered her face and was in her hair, staining her sweatshirt. This—this asshole had murdered her entire family. Him and his pack of friends. There is a scream from deep within that forced its way from Maggie's mouth, it is as if her terrified soul had unleashed a demon. All she felt was anger, all she felt is that she didn't want to be friends with anyone at all because then she wouldn't have to trust anyone, it'll be safer, easier to choose not to stay.

And Maggie knew she was hiding a truth from myself, of how much this is really to do with sadness and the scars that just won't heal.

Yet her fists still clenched, and her teeth locked up once the sound is out. She knew she couldn't stay here. Not only was her home gone, her family dead, but even if she wanted to stay, she couldn't.

Too many painful memories now.

Blood from the walker flowed, thick and sluggish, from the slash across his gut, spilling out a nest of glistening gray snakes, and thank God, Maggie thought, no signs of any of her family members' body parts.

Biting back her lip, she swiped the little Beanie Baby squirrel out of the mangled remains of the walker's shirt pocket. Luckily, it was still intact.

"That's _mine_ ," Maggie growled, a low growl escaping the back of her throat. "You deserved it. Repeat it to yourself. This thing deserved it." Maggie spotted maggots, flecks of doughy white nestled within mangled flesh, squirming into hunks of gore. "It deserved it. Repeat it to yourself, it deserved it," Maggie whispered, fighting back the bile in her throat.

The walker's once handsome features once upon a time were now spotted with angry bruises and cuts and scrapes, and death, now that Maggie had taken care of it, had frozen its face into a rigid snarl, a final, eternal lamentation to whatever came after death. Hopefully, heaven.

"It deserved it," she whispered, repeating it like a mantra to herself. "Repeat it yourself until you believe it. This asshole deserved it…"

Her stomach lurched, and a churning mixture of digestive fluids and yesterday's dinner filled her mouth. She was too weak to behold her own work. Maggie tried to fight back the bile, but it was already way too late.

She doubled over and retched, sinking to her knees until nothing but clear liquid was coming up. She reached into her backpack for her water bottle, wiping the acidic taste of stomach lining that coated the back of her throat. Maggie had never really liked dead people all that much.

Their too-white skin pulled tight against their bones, their eyes open wide, staring bloody murder at Maggie forever. Not that she hadn't respected them in the past. She just sort of preferred them inside a sealed up coffin under the ground or cremated until their bones were ashes, never to come back up again. Yup. She had no problem with corpses as long as they were nowhere near her. So, you can imagine Maggie's surprise and utter disgust and terror when she shakily rose to her feet and tripped over the body of what used to be her own father, Herschel.

Maggie screamed. It was her first instinct as she stared down into the lifeless eyes of what was left of her father. She screamed so hard her throat went dry almost immediately, but she didn't stop. Maggie stumbled backward as Hershel's milky-blue eyes flung wide open, and a snarl escaped his blue lips, and he lunged for her. Maggie screamed even harder, knowing full well she probably looked like an idiot as she flailed her arms and legs in a desperate attempt to put as much distance as she could between herself and what used to be her father. In her intense silence she somehow screamed with her whole body. The eyes wide with horror, the mouth rigid and open, her chalky face gaunt and immobile, her fists clenched with blanched knuckles and the nails digging deeply into the palms of Maggie's hand. "Daddy, please…" she begged, hearing the crack in her voice. She knew it was pointless to talk to him anymore.

What was left of her father was gone. Maggie didn't really remember much after that, just that suddenly the world started to spin around her, and she slipped slowly out of consciousness as the fear took over her mind and darkness enveloped her vision. She stifled a cry of surprise as she felt Hershel's mangled hand claw at her boot, his hand grasping her leg.

Her father lunged for her neck and Maggie screamed. This was it.

This was how she died—

* * *

An abysmal boom of thunder off in the distance startled Maggie out of her nightmare. It was always the same. Her family's faces filling her vision, their screams and cries for help ringing in her eardrums. She'd failed to save her family, and now Maggie was the one who suffered for it. She awoke with a jolt, beads of sweat forming on her brow, and shifted, letting out a cry as the weight of her backpack collapsed to the left. Maggie let out a groan as she felt herself beginning to lean. Maybe deciding to sleep in this tree for the night hadn't been so smart, after all.

Her body twirled and jerked as she fell out of the goddamned tree.

Everything was black. Maggie found herself falling in this eerie darkness, hurtling to an invisible floor. A forest floor that would most likely kill her if she continued to fall at this speed. The cold night air pushed against her face, and Maggie clenched her eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable fall.

The forest around her rushed by in a blur and Maggie knew the pain was coming. It goes by fast, yet slow, almost suspended. Then the impact.

She felt her bones of her ankle move in a way they shouldn't, jangled. Though one brief twitch confirmed at least it wasn't broken, thank God.

Just sprained. Maggie let out a pitiful little whimper and she didn't even have to look to know there was blood seeping from skin that was only seconds ago smooth. "Just great, Greene," she grumbled, sticking out her bottom lip in a pout and bit it, bracing herself against the trunk of the very tree she had fallen from in order to pull herself to a standing position. "That's the last goddamned time you sleep in a freaking tree…"

She didn't move yet. Anything to delay the part where she took in what she looked like now. Torn and dirty skin reddened from droplets of blood. Blinking back briny tears that threatened to escape from her eyes.

"You okay, Greene?" came a man's voice, and Maggie bit her tongue that she felt blood welling on its surface as she fought back the urge to scream. She flinched and slowly turned, trying her hardest not to put pressure on her broken ankle. Maggie breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it was only Glenn, who was watching her, concern laced in his voice.

"You were watching?" she demanded, feeling her eyes go wide and round with shock. Maggie winced, wishing that a hole in the ground would open up beneath her boots and swallow her whole. She just wanted to be gone—get away from those Dixon brothers and Jack.

Glenn looked like he was fighting back the urge to laugh at Maggie, for which she was grateful. She felt embarrassed enough as it was, that someone had seen that. "You hurt? Are you in any pain? That was…quite the fall." His mouth twitched as he fought back a smile.

Maggie cringed. She didn't need any further humiliation, which was what she was bound to get if Merle or Jack or Daryl found out about this.

Luckily for her, though, Glenn making fun of her seemed to be the last thing on his mind. Something about his voice told Maggie she could trust him. His tone was soft and rather timid. Maggie wondered just how much talking to girls he'd done before the apocalypse had taken over.

His voice was smooth. _The kind of voice a guy ought to have_ , she thought, and felt her eyes widen as her mind was taking her to inappropriate places again. She hardly knew Glenn, and to have _these_ kinds of thoughts about the young man were totally not appropriate.

Maggie, still feeling quite flustered, turned her head away sharply, not wanting to look Glenn in the eyes. She didn't want anyone to see her like this, in such a clumsy way. She shook her head vehemently, glancing up to see concern flashing in Glenn's eyes. She hated how damn clumsy she was. That had been a foolish move on her part, climbing that dumb tree.

Glenn frowned, glancing around at the clearing in the forest, obviously searching for any signs that he'd been followed. It would royally suck if Merle or Jack found them out here, alone. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

Maggie shook her head. "No." Her voice came out as a breathy squeak. She shifted her backpack, adjusting the straps so it more evenly distributed the weight of the contents across her entire back and trudged onward, ignoring the screaming sensation in her ankle. If she wanted to get out of here, then she had to keep moving, no matter how bad it throbbed.

"Hey!" Glenn shouted after her, his voice coming across as almost a harsh bark. He had to jog to catch up to her, which he thought was surprising since he noticed her left ankle looked swollen and she limped.

Maggie turned, careful to keep her face neutral. "What?" It didn't come across as mean, necessarily, but perhaps a little harsher than she'd have liked. She cringed, realizing she sounded too cold when she noticed Glenn's face fall. _He's just trying to help you_ , her conscience offered.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded hotly, moving to stand in front of her and block her way. "You can't just _leave_!" he said.

Maggie furrowed her brow into a frown. "You got any better ideas, Glenn?" she snapped, feeling her father's temper swell in the pit of her stomach, a trait she'd always hated in herself, but couldn't ever change.

"Stay," he pleaded, a note of desperation creeping into her voice. "It's not…safe," he finished lamely, feeling the heat creep up onto his cheeks.

Maggie frowned. " _Why_? So, I can get attacked by Merle again? Or his buddy Jack? I don't think so. I'm not sticking around so I can be their punching bag," she growled, shaking her head in disbelief and went on.

When Glenn stepped to the side to continue blocking her path, she felt her temper rise to dangerous levels. "Get out of my way, Rhee."

"No way, Greene," he retorted, his eyes narrowed as he fixed Maggie with an unusually cold stare. "It's not safe for you to be on your own."

Maggie bristled. She was better off on her own. In the end, they all died. Why bother getting attached to someone when they were just going to die? She fumed, a muscle in jaw and behind her right eyelid twitching.

"Don't you think that's for me to decide, Glenn?" she snapped icily, no warmth in her tone, violently shoving past Glenn, nudging him out of the way with one swift jab of her shoulder. "Go back to the camp. You can do whatever the hell you want with your own life, but I'm getting out of here. I don't give a shit if Merle comes after me, I'll kill him if he tries to lay a hand on me again." Even Maggie was surprised at the coldness that settled in her voice. _This new world changes you, and not for the better_ , she thought sadly. But she quickly shoved aside thoughts of sympathy, for they would do her no good here, right now.

Glenn frowned; his lips pursed into such a thin line they almost disappeared. "Then I'm coming with you," he declared boldly, taking a moment to adjust his red baseball cap back on his head and shifted his backpack. "Especially if you're heading back to Atlanta, though I don't recommend that. Place is swarming with geeks. The army and national guard bombed the city when the outbreak started, but there's still tons."

Maggie opened her mouth to speak but seeing the wildfire in Glenn's eyes that looked ready to scorch anything they came into contact with, she thought better of it. As she looked at Glenn Rhee, something within her gave way and she felt a shift within herself. Letting out a sigh of defeat, she nodded mutely and turned away from Glenn. "Fine," she said.

Glenn blinked and opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a strangled attempt at speech, which only deepened Maggie's frown.

"I…you'll—really?" he stammered. "You'll let me come with you?"

"Did I stutter?" snapped Maggie, and then, realizing that sounded harsh, adjusted her backpack, making a show of fidgeting with the bag's straps. "You and Molly were the only ones in the whole camp that are nice to me, so yeah, I'll let you come with me, if that's what you really want. I don't want to stay with Merle." She scrunched her nose in disgust at _that_ pleasant thought and shuddered. "The others won't know you're gone?"

"Not till it's too late," he answered with a coy little shrug, shrugging his shoulders in a nonchalant way. "Besides I…" His voice trailed off and he looked away, seemingly struggling with whatever was weighing on his mind. "I…like you, Greene. Yeah, you're kind of weird, but it's not like our options are really vast these days in terms of friends," he admitted.

_Merle said something similar_ , Maggie thought, pursing her lips into a thin straight line. Maggie frowned at Glenn's words. "I'm weird, huh?"

Glenn blanched and Maggie smirked as she watched his face drain of color. "I—no, that's—that's not what I meant," he stammered. "I…I'm lost," he confessed sheepishly, scratching at an itch behind his ear.

Maggie smiled, unable to keep the playful little twinkle out of her eyes. She couldn't quite explain why or how, but she knew she liked Glenn.

"You got a girlfriend I don't know about?" Maggie asked, her hands on her hips and barely hiding back her urge to bite into laughter. "Molly?"

He froze. "M—Molly, wh—what? No, no way, she's not…no!"

"So…if you're not with Molly, then…you're a pretty confident guy."

Poor Glenn was mortified, frozen to his spot in front of Maggie. He was traumatized. He couldn't believe this had happened, and in front of her.

His head had begun to spin. He'd never live this down as long as he lived. If Merle and the other guys were here, they'd be laughing their asses off at him for sure, making fun of him until the day he died for this.

There was nothing for it. He'd have to leave Georgia altogether, cast off his identity and start somewhere new, all thanks to Maggie Greene.

Glenn bit the inside of his cheek as his mind reeled. Truth be told, he felt a little dizzy the more he looked at Maggie, and the glances he did catch of her looking at him were…really something. She was gorgeous.

They stared back at each other for what felt like hours, until Maggie finally dropped her gaze. "You can come, Rhee. If you want."

He tried to open his mouth to say, "Thanks," but it wasn't coming out. He was debating on whether he was having a heart attack or a panic attack. Either one seemed plausible given his frozen state of mind and inability to speak a coherent thought. At last, he found his voice again.

"Th—thanks," he stammered, coughing to quell his nervousness.

"And there's…one more thing," Maggie spoke up, her voice quieter now, less confident, and sure of herself. She lifted her chin and looked back up at Glenn; a gentle flush of pink had appeared in her cheeks, giving her a vulnerable look, like she was scared of what the future held.

Though in this day and age, with the living dead out there, who could blame her for feeling that way? Glenn drew in a sharp breath of cold night air and held it as she leaned up on the tips of her toes and tentatively pressed her soft lips against his. He became self-conscious and briefly wondered if his lips were cracked and chapped. Probably.

Glenn fully expected Maggie to pull away from him, to explain away the slip of her balance at any given moment, but it never came to pass.

Glenn tried to kiss her back, though he honestly had no idea what he was doing. Maggie either didn't seem to notice his inexperience or didn't care. She leaned into him slightly, dropping her bag at her boots.

His head had gone hazy, his body became stagnant at the sensation of her lips on his. He couldn't believe it was really happening to him now.

Just as Glenn was about to deepen the kiss and lose himself in the moment, she pulled back, almost violently so, a look of apprehension on her face. She leaned in to whisper something into the shell of his ear.

"You aren't the only one who's lonely, Rhee," she whispered, holding out her hand for him to take. "You coming or not, Glenn?"

Glenn stared at her outstretched hand for a moment, his eyes half-lidded and dazed as he still tried to process what had happened just now.

She had…she had kissed him. A goofy sort of grin began to creep onto his face and Maggie knitted her brows together in confusion and she shook her head. "You act like that was the first time a girl's kissed you."

"Err…" He felt the heat creep back into his cheeks. "It…it was…"

Maggie took a step closer, something akin to amusement and…something else in her eyes glinting there, like a deep dark secret.

"Would you let me do it again?" Maggie asked.

Glenn blinked. She was blunt, he would give the farm girl that. Do what again, he to wonder? Kiss him? Prove to him he wasn't dreaming, that all of this had actually just happened? Whatever it was, he grinned.

Maggie could have asked him to fight off a horde of walkers for her and he would have done whatever. She wanted the moon? It was hers. She wanted to kiss him _again_? Well…who was he to deny her that wish? He nodded, and she moved to close off the gap of space between them. Maggie leaned into Glenn, enticing him to hold her as tight as he wanted. A terrible hot fiery ache began to blossom in his chest and spread throughout his entire body, rendering him breathless and kind of dizzy.

Smiling, the young woman all but launched herself at Glenn, her lips crashing against in a passionate kiss that sent an incredible warmth up his spine and throughout the rest of his body as well, he didn't know what to do, really, but he quickly closed his eyes and let Maggie take the lead.

This time, he didn't hesitate in drawing her closer. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. She ran her fingers down Glenn's spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them and she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

Jack was well and truly _fucked_. Not to mention pissed. He'd gotten up early this morning before dawn to pee, gone a little bit past the camp's boundaries, and had come back ten minutes later to find not only the Greene girl gone, but the Asian boy as well. "Shit, fuck and goddamn," he swore under his breath. Merle was going to be royally ticked at him.

But there was no getting around what had happened. Sooner or later, they were all gonna find out two of their group were missing in the woods. Jack wondered if he should just go—follow after them on foot.

He had a feeling they were going to have to anyways, but if he fled now, he could at least delay getting his ass handed to him a little while longer by Merle. Jack was in the middle of contemplating this idea when the sound of heavy footfalls—Merle's—reached his eardrums. He cringed.

And then, Dixon asked the very one question that nearly rendered him dead there on the spot. "Where's the girl?" he growled, his voice lowly.

"Err…" Jack's voice trailed off as he whirled around, unable to avoid the inevitable any longer. "She ah…well, she's sort of…um…missing."

The younger man bit his lip and fell silent as he waited for Dixon to process this information. He hadn't meant to blurt it out like that, it had just…happened, and if he was being honest, Merle kind of intimated him.

He could feel the sweat drench his skin, the throbbing of his own eyes, and the thumping of his heart against his chest. His fingers instinctively curled into a fist, nails digging into his scarred palm. Jack couldn't hear his rapid breathing, but he could feel the oxygen flooding in and out of his lungs. Hesitantly, his eyes glanced up towards Merle to try to gauge his reaction. Fear tortured Jack's guts, churning his stomach in tense cramps.

The fear he felt kind of overwhelmed his body, knocking all other thoughts aside and suddenly, he felt drastically exhausted. However, most of all, the fear was making him clam, and that's what scared him the most.

Silence gnawed at Jack's insides. Silence hung in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shatters on the ground. The silence was like a gaping void, needing to be filled with sounds, words, anything. The silence was poisonous in its nothingness, cruelly underscoring how vapid their conversation had become, and then….

Merle's shout rent the air, shattering the otherwise eerie tranquility.

"WHAT?"

* * *

Daryl watched from underneath the cover of shade of an old willow tree near the campsite as his brother flew into another of his classic rages. He wondered if he should intervene and step in in some way, but he decided against it. Whatever the hell had happened was Jack's fault. Daryl grunted as he dug into the pocket of his jeans and fumbled in another pocket of his vest for his lighter to light up a cigarette clamped between his jaws.

He frowned as he flicked the lighter and watched the flames dance orange and bright in his hand a couple of times. Daryl could never quite prove it, but he was fairly certain Merle had started that fire that burnt down their home a long time ago, after their old man had left.

For Merle, it was pretty goddamned simple to make a flame with the lighter, just as it had been for their father and mother to cuss them out.

The two brothers had been bullied their whole lives, and their parents thought they were helping them 'grow into men' by calling them 'lazy.' The cops hadn't been able to prove the fire that burnt down their parents' little trailer home was a malicious act, so they brushed it off. Daryl frowned as another of his older brother's shouts rent the air and let out a haggard sigh, wishing Merle would just get it out of his system. He (and not to mention the rest of the world) was better off when Merle was calm. Merle was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

Always had been, and probably always would be. Any provocation, no matter how small and his fuse was lit. His signature move was a solid upper cut to the jaw. Daryl once saw one of his unsuspecting victims almost get their tongue cleaved in half by their own teeth, thanks to Merle.

Merle, especially now, was a liability to be around. When he'd had a few drinks, he lost all ability to be reasoned with. He'd lash out first and think later. When any other guy would just shrug and walk away, Merle would pull a knife. Of course, in this new world where the dead came back to life and it was the _living_ you couldn't trust, there was only so many times he could get away with that before someone one day would probably pull a gun on Merle, and then what? Daryl would have to save his sorry ass, that's what. He caught Molly looking at Daryl and he scowled, furrowing his thick brows into a frown.

"What'd you want?" he grunted, averting the little blonde's gaze. "You come to watch my big brother lose his shit?"

She snorted and rolled her eyes as she sat next to him. He was kind of surprised by that. Most chose not to go near him, they were unnerved by the aloofness he gave off, but he preferred to be alone. Had been that way for most of his life. As he liked it, and he wanted to keep it that way, if Daryl had his way, really.

Molly gave a jerk of her head and brushed back a wisp of her choppy blonde pixie cut back behind her ear. "Seeing your older brother…like _that_ …doesn't bother you at all?" she asked incredulously, wincing as Merle's shouts filled the air. He'd only recently discovered, along with Jack, that Maggie and Glenn had seemingly gone missing during the night while Jack was supposed to have been on watch and let them slip away. Molly fell silent and listened to the two men argue.

"You fuckin' stupid, boy? How the hell could you fuck this up, kid?" Merle bellowed to Jack, whose face remained impassive and professional, though there was no mistaking the rage in the former accountant's eyes. He was getting pissed and Merle up in his face screaming at him like this surely wasn't helping his mood any. Molly drew in a breath.

"No." His answer was quiet, and almost didn't quite sound like Jack.

"No," mocked Merle, his breathing coming in quick and hitched. He stifled a growl from the back of his throat and glowered, the tip of his nose almost touching Jack's as he got in close, closing off the gap of space between them. "You ain't, are you? No. You're _not_. You're just a bit thick in the skull, boy. Well, thanks to you an' your need to piss, cause you left 'em unattended for five fuckin' minutes, now we gotta waste our time goin' to look for 'em. I swear to God, if I found out that Asian boy is puttin' the wood to Greene, I'll cut your fuckin' balls off an' feed 'em to you on the end of a fucking skewer," Merle Dixon growled, his eyes narrowed. "The girl's _mine_. Not yours," he whisper-hissed, his voice low but just as deadly. The way his eyes narrowed to mere slits reminded Jack of a pit-viper's.

Jack opened his mouth, looking like he had something he wanted to say, but closed it. He did it again, and Molly felt a laugh escape her lips, despite her best efforts to control it. "He looks like a fish when he does that," she giggled, her voice coming out muffled from behind her hand.

Daryl snorted and merely grunted in response. She did kind of have a point. Both fell silent as Jack spluttered to think of a retort and came up short. Molly let out a hiss as Jack swung his fist backward and hefted it.

She didn't know who threw the first punch, but suddenly, Jacks' fist was slamming into Merle's face while he sunk into his stomach. Blood pooled in Merle's mouth and he turned his head off to the left and spat a mouthful of crimson blood at his feet, choking on it as Merle coughed.

They stumbled apart for a few brief seconds to catch their breaths before diving back at each other, their eyes narrowed in determination to win it.

Merle dodged Jack's fist and came up with his own. For a brief instant, Jack's green eyes widened before he managed to tilt his head back and slam it into Merle's. _Nobody_ fucking accused him of being lazy. No one.

Stars burst in Merle's vision, but he shook it off, blindingly throwing a sloppy kick, hoping the edge of his boot came into contact with Jack's ass. "Put my foot up your _ass_ , boy, you don't cut this shit out!" he bellowed. "You _forgotten_ who the hell's in charge around here, huh?"

Jack stepped back, easily evading the kick, while Molly and Daryl lingered underneath the shade and comfort of the old dark oak tree.

Molly looked worried and Daryl merely looked disinterested. Bored, even. Molly shot an inquisitive glance Daryl's way, silently trying to communicate with her eyes to see if she should help. He finally caught on and gave a curt shake of his head. _No_ , his eyes seemed to say _. It's their fight_. _Let em' duke it out till one or both of 'em are dead. I don't care_.

Jack stepped back, easily evading the kick. "That all you got, boss?" he crowed, smirking infuriatingly at Merle. "You're gettin' _old_!"

Merle let out a growl and threw all of his body weight at the younger man, changing direction at the last minute, which caught him off guard. His blood hummed in his veins as determination and anger took over.

With his own two hands, Merle grasped Jack's hand and brought his kneecap up to his nose, there was a blunt crank and he released his head.

Crimson leaked from both his nostrils and Jack's nose was twisted to the right. Merle drew back his fist again and it ploughed into the man's gut.

It was like hitting a train head on. Merle repaid the man's snarky comment by punching jaw, that classic solid uppercut move, his fist colliding with all his body weight. He continued this battering until Jack slumped to the ground. His chest gently rose and sank with each shallow breath he drew in, and his throat was making horrible gurgling noises.

Merle spat near Jack's head, clearly disgusted by the turn of mind his comrade had taken to dare to question his authority, as their leader.

Daryl heaved a heavy sigh that was more like a grunt, causing Molly to glance over quizzically at the younger Dixon brother. "Don't you think this has gone far enough, Merle?" he called out, setting down his arrows.

Merle narrowed his eyes, almost lazily turning his head towards the oak tree under which Molly and Daryl had taken refuge under for some shade. He pursed his lips into a thin line and sauntered over towards them. Daryl could feel Molly stiffen involuntarily the closer he got, but something deep within the pit of Dixon's chest allowed Daryl to come to the realization that it was not okay, what Merle was doing, obsessing and lusting after both women, and they certainly weren't about to have some kind of-of sick concubine or something with just two women in the group. No. Merle had to be put in his place, and Daryl was the only one who could make him see even a lick of sense. He was going to have to.

"So…the girl left," Daryl grunted, his own eyes narrowing as he reached up a hand and swiped his bangs out of his eyes. "So what? We know they ain't gone far, they had to follow the railroad tracks if they wanna get back to the city, which is where I'd go if I needed supplies."

"And?" growled Merle, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. "Whats' your point, little bro? You got somethin' you wanna say to your big brother?" Merle was way too close now for Molly's comfort, and she felt herself bolt from the ground and fumble backwards a few steps in an attempt to get away, though he paid the little blonde no mind at all.

No, Merle only had eyes for Daryl, who swallowed nervously, but held his ground. Out of all of them here, he was the only one who really was used to Merle's temper. He ought to have been, having grown up with him. "So," Daryl emphasized, _really_ not in the mood for his brother's shit, "we go find 'em. Let me track 'em, bring both of 'em back for us."

He thought for certain Merle would have said not, but he fell silent, and had developed a strange habit of pacing back and forth a couple of times, seeming to think over his younger brother's offer. Then at last, he spoke.

"We'll go nab 'em together," he growled. "Take you too, blondie," he barked, finally shifting his attentions towards Molly, who remained frozen to the spot. He glanced back over towards where Jack still lay unconscious and un-moving on the forest floor, "I don't trust him anymore. Fella was supposed to be like a brother to us, an' he let her go!"

"Fine," Daryl growled, finally standing up and setting aside his makeshift arrows and his crossbow. "We'll go get 'em, but don't you think this has gone far enough? You can't…force these women on you."

"You really have gone soft on me, little bro," Merle growled. "Man up, show some balls! Don't you want a little action? We ain't had any for months!"

"That's your own goddamn fault," Daryl snarled, leaning in so the tip of his nose was almost touching his brother's. "You go 'round treating 'em like this, it's no surprise why they stay the hell away from you. You suck, Merle!" he bellowed, his face reddening the angrier the younger man got.

Merle opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. His face blanched and, seething, he turned away as a muscle in his jaw twitched as he fought to compose himself and quell his temper. "Gear up," he said at last, and when he finally did speak, his voice was so soft that both Daryl and Molly had to strain forward to hear.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he stormed off, but not before shooting one last scathing look at Jack's unconscious form and spat at his feet. "Leave the treacherous little worm there to rot," Merle snapped.

Molly watched, horrified, as Merle stormed off towards his tent, no doubt to gather any supplies they would need for this run into Atlanta.

Taking a ginger step forward, she craned her neck to look at Jack.

Daryl was the first one to break the heavy, awkward silence.

"Well…that went even worse than I expected."


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

Glenn couldn’t help but notice how Maggie walked, with her shoulders back, yet her eyes frequently trying to check her own appearance, anytime they paused outside of a shop window in downtown Atlanta.

It was as if she felt superior and insecure all at once. But Glenn preferred Maggie the way she was, she had this weird kind of swagger to her gait, a sort of free-style motion that said she was happy with who she was, her eyes fixated on the street in front of her, one hand hovering over her dagger, and he could not help but notice how her free hand when it was clutching onto the strap of her backpack, that it would drift to that stupid miniature Beanie Baby squirrel she kept tucked in her front jeans pocket.

Finally, he had to ask the question that was burning on the tip of his tongue. “What’s with the toy squirrel, Greene?” he asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound too condescending. Glenn knew he made a mistake in asking the minute he saw Maggie’s head whiplash sharply up to the left and regarded him in silence, how her dark eyes narrowed until they resembled the slits of a pit-viper’s eyes, and how her mouth narrowed into a rigid line, clearly displeased at his question. “I—I have to know.”

Maggie’s scowl deepened as her gaze drifted downwards towards her pocket. “My sister gave it to me,” she answered, lowering her voice an octave. “She was younger than me, she…it was in my stocking one year at Christmas. She was so excited when I pulled it out. She saved up her pocket money our Daddy gave us for helping with chores, Daddy told me later that she begged him and Patricia to take her to McDonald's, you remember when they were selling these things?” she asked, and waited for Glenn to nod. When he did, she swallowed past the lump in her throat and continued. “She bought it with her own money. For…for _me_.” But her voice cracked and wavered as it trailed off, and she didn’t finish her thought. She didn’t need to. With the world gone to shit, and the fact that there had been no one else with Maggie Greene when Glenn had found her, then that led Glenn to the only possible outcome of what had happened to the rest of her family. Dead. All of them. He could tell.

It was in her eyes. She had sad eyes. Angry eyes. Glenn wished she would open up and tell him a little about himself, but he knew first she would have to let him in, and she looked like she was still too haunted to open up. That there was a part of her that had hardened and was frozen inside.

He supposed that, in time, it would be up to him to thaw that ice, that wall around her heart. If she would allow him to. He still hadn’t forgotten that kiss. He had hoped it wasn’t going to be a one off, but to his disappointment, he’d been surprised the closer they got to Atlanta, how Maggie had cooled off, seemingly want to put distance between both of them.

When he tried to bring it up, stating how they still had eleven condoms from a store he had looted, she had scoffed at Glenn and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, Rhee. You see eleven condoms; I see eleven minutes of my life I’m never getting back.”

Glenn visibly cringed, mentally slapping himself for overstepping his boundaries. When at last, Maggie turned to face him again, there was no trace of tears, not in her eyes or in track marks on her paling pretty face.

Her dark eyes were narrowed, rigid, cold, and hard. In that moment, Glenn knew Maggie Greene was already far away. Once more, he was the asshole here. These swings of the farm girl’s from being friendly enough to most hated were going to be the death of the former pizza delivery boy. The girl’s states had no grey scale at all, just the extremes.

Glenn drew in a deep breath; the burning hard stare of Maggie’s would last only as long as it took her to think of the most brutally cutting thing that she could possibly tear him down with. And after that, well, who knew what would happen, but he had to try to reach her, somehow.

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling ashamed. He turned away and was about to scout ahead for a potential store they could hit up supplies with, when he felt her gentle hand on his shoulder, giving him pause and coaxing him to turn back around to meet Maggie’s gaze. “Are they…?” Here, he bit his lip, unsure if he should continue.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. She let out a sigh and relinquished his grip on her shoulder, though Glenn wished she would have kept it there a moment longer. Her hand on his shoulder had felt nice. “You…you couldn’t have known, Glenn.”

Maggie turned away, sticking out her bottom lip in a slight pout and adjusted the straps of her backpack, brushing her palms on the seat of her black jeans. “I—I’m sorry I’ve been such a huge bitch to you, Glenn. You don’t deserve it, and I shouldn’t be so goddamn mean, but I…I can’t help it. Before you found me, I’d been alone for weeks. Months. I don’t even know anymore, b—but I…sometimes it’s better to be alone. Then nobody can hurt you, and when someone dies, they’re just another walker.”

She turned back around to face Glenn and cringed, half expecting that he would be just like the other guys she had known throughout her life thus far, and this would be about the time where he would get defensive, and then the yelling and screaming would start. There was no point in lying.

Maggie Greene was bad at love, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to try, and given how badly the other two back at that godforsaken hovel of a camp—Merle and Jack, had scared her and left her with an uneasy feeling in her stomach, not to mention what Dixon had tried to do to her, that didn’t leave her with much of a choice, though Maggie had to admit that she thought Glenn was cute, though she knew if she came outright and said that to him here and now, his cockiness would be endless.

Glenn Rhee wasn’t the kind of guy Maggie usually fantasized about. For starters, he had a thick head of raven black hair, and she had always gone for redheads or blondes. She tended to lust after the blue-eyed men with a handle on the way the world worked. At least, until she met Glenn.

She watched, biting her bottom lip as he went on ahead of her. He hadn’t noticed her watching him yet, so Maggie was free to gaze at him freely.

He wasn’t particularly special looking, but to her, he stood out from those other assholes back at the camp. There was something about Glenn Rhee, the pizza delivery boy from Atlanta, a slight confidence and inflated ego, that had her muddling her words sometimes and blushing whenever he looked at her, which hadn’t happened to Maggie in a _long_ time.

Glenn finally noticed her looking, having paused outside of a clothing boutique that the window had been busted, shards of glass on the street ground at his boots, and he smiled, making his way to the front entrance.

She smiled as he waltzed right in through the front door, though he could have easily just climbed through the window, even in a world where everything else had gone to fucking shit, Glenn was still a man who had an ounce of respect left in him.

Even under the angry gray sky that promised a thunderstorm, if judging by that low rumble of thunder was anything for her to go off was, and the drizzle that had started, to Maggie, Glenn Rhee still looked like a ray of sunshine, and she wanted to soak it up.

As Maggie gingerly followed Glenn, she felt herself halt as if her feet were bound by ropes. The dust swirled in the late afternoon air like they were standing in some dusty old library with old books pulled from the shelves.

Glenn stopped to tug at a piece of blue fabric under some rubble and already, Maggie felt like her heart was in her boots. She could see through the dirt the white stars that had once meant freedom, a bright light in the world that said they could dance to rock and roll, speaking their minds, love whoever the hell they wanted. Glenn tugged at it and before the two of them saw that cherry red and white stripes, she heard a low guttural growl from behind her. Another walker.

Maggie whirled around and plunged her knife into the walker’s throat, which had already been cut. She frowned. Someone forgot to go for the head. Didn’t these dumbasses know _anything_? She let out a yelp as the walker fell to the floor, its broken knees and jagged white bone exposed giving out beneath it as Maggie wrenched her dagger free from its head.

Maggie let out a haggard sigh, wiping her dagger off and tucking it safely back in its sheath, turning back towards Glenn, who still held the flag.

To see it in such a dismal state turned her stomach and Maggie blinked back tears, remembering how patriotic their farmhouse always got around the Fourth of July every year, how Daddy and Otis would grill burgers and hot dogs and they would watch the county fireworks show from their own backyard on the porch, and Patricia would serve them all lemonade and brownies for desert. How it had been every July Fourth.

That flag, America’s stars and stripes once flew over every school, their justice buildings, their homes, as it had once done for the Greene family.

Without even thinking, Maggie reached out to touch it, to feel the fabric that no doubt had once been perfect and strong. It felt like an old t-shirt that had been washed way too many times and the pads of her fingertips came away covered in grime and what looked suspiciously like dried blood.

Glenn gripped onto it like a child would find an old teddy bear and neither of them said a word. With no other sounds in the air, no birds, no insects chirping in the sky, the city of Atlanta was deathly silent now.

But yet…Maggie could swear she could hear the Star Spangled Banner. Her jaw clenched and rooted tightly shut and she looked away as Glenn stuffed it into his backpack. What he planned to do with that, she didn’t know.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. Sudden flashes, memories of the day the world had gone to shit came to the forefront of Maggie’s mind.

Maggie could remember, the people she had known as long as she could remember, their piercing screams as the dead filled the town she’d rode her horse into to get supplies. Those screams had torn through her like great shards of glass, desperate, terrified, pleading, screaming for help.

Maggie had felt her eyes widen and pulse quicken that day, her heart thudding like a rock in a box. What was happening? That was the day.

That was the day she had lost everything… the day her family had been killed; she had gone into town to make a run at the pharmacy for Patricia’s meds. Not that they couldn’t drive, but Maggie preferred to go on horseback. Riding her horse gave her time to think and daydream.

She didn’t know, but Maggie should have enjoyed the happiness while she could. The moment she entered into the small town, the thick scent of melted paint and scorched wood entered her nose, and the thick coppery scent of blood lingered in her nostrils as she looked at the dead bodies scattered throughout, lifeless in the streets, some with their throats torn out. The dead eating the dead. Her vision had become blurry.

Black smoke had filled the town and filled her lungs. All she could hear was the screaming of Mr. Grieves, the local pharmacist, screaming at Maggie to get out. “You…leave…once…now…go…back…get me?”

That was all Maggie had been able to hear. She had kicked the spurs of her boots into her horse’s side and sprung the beast into a full-fledged gallop. With each flare of orange as the wildfire spread, she knew another bit of the town was gone and on fire. And then when she made it home, that had been the end of all things, or at least, life as she had known it.

“I can still see their faces,” she whispered hoarsely, speaking up, her voice quiet and soft, startling Glenn, who turned and blinked at her a couple of times. “My—my dad. My mom. O—Otis. And….and Beth,’ she squeaked. “I—I watched an entire pack of walkers rip them all apart.”

All it took was for a single tear to run down her cheek and that was enough for the rest of them to burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down her face. “I—I couldn’t save them!” she wailed. She felt the muscles of her chin tremble like a little kid’s and she looked out the shop window, as if the fading light of the slowly setting sun could soothe her.

There was that strange static in her head again, the side effect of this constant fear, constant stress she lived with. Maggie heard her own sounds, raw and distressed, taking something out of her that she didn’t know she had left to give. That’s the way it was when you were hard.

It was like a theft of your soul; an injury no other person could see.

But she was letting Glenn see it. Her eyes dripped with tears, the walls that held her up, made her strong, just…collapsed. Moment by moment, her tears fell, those horrible briny salty droplets that fell from her chin, drenching her black sweater. Maybe these tears would wash the blood out from that walker she had killed back there. She turned away sharply and pressed her head against the interior of the clothing store’s wall.

_Innocent_ , her Daddy had liked to call her. She was anything but innocent. She felt herself tremble as her wailing sobs worsened. Maggie couldn’t—couldn’t stop. Even as she pressed her hand against the wall, it shook like a leaf. It was raw, everything unbridled and raw, raw tears, raw emotions. And she couldn’t stop. Why the hell couldn’t she stop this shit?

As much as Maggie tried to hold it in, the pain came out like an uproar from her throat in the form of a silent scream. She punched the wall, much to Glenn’s surprise, and tried to scream, but her voice was melted by the sound of the place. The muffled sobs wracked against her chest.

The world around her turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. The smell of death that lingered heavily in the air. The taste. Everything was just…gone. The last painful emotion slammed against Maggie, rocking her to her core before she lost the feeling of feeling, wondering it was that she had left to live for now these days with all her family dead.

Glenn did not offer Maggie words of comfort, for he knew that nothing he could say would ever be enough. They had all lost someone. Instead, he wrapped an arm around Maggie’s shoulders and gingerly pulled her as close as he dared, gently rubbing her arm, and the other rubbing small circles against the small of her back, hoping in some small way, that simple gesture would be enough to ease the burden of survivor’s guilt.

Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of Glenn’s body pressed against hers. Maggie sunk into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture. She coughed once, a hand over her mouth to try to quell the last of her tears, which turned into a violent coughing spell. Glenn shushed her, whispering soothing remarks in her ear.

His touch made the decrepit clothing store warmer somehow, her future within its walls seeming a little less bleak. For a moment, just a moment, she forgot about Merle, Jack, and the others, who were probably going to come after them once the group discovered the two of them had escaped.

But Glenn made Maggie feel like none of that mattered, at least for right now. In the moment, there was no war, no death, no suffering. Just them.

And that was good enough for her.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

Daryl could see Merle coming his way, and from the strange bouncy stride, he knew there was an eerie grin plastered on his brother's face. So typical for him to be happy in the morning, especially after gettin' laid. Daryl had tried to be discreet and pretend like he hadn't heard the ungodly moans coming from Merle's tent last night, but everybody knew it was a nightly occurrence for the little blonde girl from Crawford to go to Merle. Not because she wanted it though.

That was a different matter entirely, but because Merle demanded it, and whatever he wanted, big brother got. That was how it always was for him. Daryl dove into his pocket of his vest for his carton of cigarettes, pulling one out and clamping it between his teeth, fumbling with his lighter. When it wouldn't light up, he felt his temper begin to swell.

"Son of a bitch, _light_ , goddamn you," he growled. If he pretended to be busy, act like he had something better to do than talk, then Merle would probably get bored. Then Daryl could go back to thinking about their little problem. What the hell Merle was going to do to the Greene girl and the Korean kid whenever they found them. The ambiguity of not knowing bothered him. There was so much that could go wrong.

"Hey, little bro," slurred Merle's voice. Daryl heaved a heavy sigh and let his lighter sink back into his jeans pocket. Not fast enough, goddamn it. "You see the tits on Blondie, man? Gotta admit, she's boring as hell, but those tits." He let out a low whistle and glanced behind him, making sure Molly was out of earshot. "Man, there isn't much I wouldn't do for those." Merle winked, grinning wider. Then he lowered his voice. "Taking her tonight too. Reckon she might put out after a coupla drinks, know what I mean? Hope the fuckin' city has a few bottles left."

Daryl _did_ know what Merle meant. It made him sick. Molly wasn't boring, she wasn't just another crackhead meth head bimbo bitch whore, like the type of girls Merle had usually gone for in times past, in the old days before the living dead roamed the streets, eating peoples' organs.

He merely grunted in response and gave a noncommittal shrug of the shoulders, forcing a grin. "Yeah, man. Maybe." He paused. "What about _her_?" Daryl didn't think he needed to elaborate to Merle about the girl.

He'd been right on that regard. As soon as Maggie was brought up, Daryl watched as his older brother's eyes darkened in color, almost black the more upset he got. He stifled the growl forming in the back of his throat and balled his strong hands into fists.

"When I see that goddamned whore, I'm gonna give her a beating so bad it'll make Dachau look like a fuckin' paradise an' she'll regret ever leavin' us behind, just you watch, little brother. Stupid bitch thinks she can just up and take the Asian boy? Uh-huh, I don't think so. That boy's the best runner we got, little bro."

"What about Glenn?" Daryl snapped, not sure why he was asking after the kid. The Asian boy barely looked old enough to shave, let alone fawn after a girl like some stupid teenager going through puberty, but still, the idea of the younger man being subject to Merle's wrath simply because he had chosen to go with Green didn't sit too well with Daryl right now.

Merle's frown deepened and his hands, still curled into fists, fell at his sides, clenching and unclenching in a repeated pattern to prevent him from striking out at something in anger. "Chinglish is gonna be lucky to still keep his dick after this," he growled. "If I find out he's screwing her, I'll cut his goddamn balls off an' shove them down his throat, make 'im choke on 'em…serves the traitorous little worm right for what he done."

Daryl rolled his eyes and scoffed. He had never known Merle to get so goddamn possessive over a woman. Most of his flings in the past were just that. One night stands and nothing more, but this…watching him behave this way was like trying to take a bone from a rabid dog, and a big one.

Daryl frowned. He didn't bother to correct Merle and tell him the kid was actually Korean. Something in Merle's tone told him he wouldn't appreciate being corrected, and if Daryl tried, he'd be the one next to wind up on the ground with a broken fucking nose bleeding out.

Molly felt like she walked like her limbs didn't really belong to her anymore and each step was a negotiation rather than an order as she lagged behind the rest of the group, trying her hardest to ignore Merle's barking commands. Everything hurt now, they felt like they'd been walking for twelve fucking hours with no break, not rest in sight.

Every goddamn muscle ached and screamed for relief from her pains. Unable to bear anymore, she dipped into her backpack for the small bottle of Ibuprofen that she used sparingly, fumbling the little white pill as she popped it into her mouth, letting the bitter taste settle on her tongue.

Her mind felt like it was already clamoring for the pain relief to come. It wasn't necessarily that her suffering was more acute, more that it never left her these days unless she slept, of which she was reluctant to do.

All it would take is one slip up and Merle would be able to slip into her tent and do whatever the hell he damn well pleased. And all because he was their 'leader.' Molly thought it was amazing how such a simple thing like a pill could be a trap door into moments of bliss, a few sweet precious hours of tranquility that to Molly were infinitely better than sex.

The aches felt dull, like some lazy torturer was standing right behind her, only applying enough pressure to be an annoyance. It sat there, just to the side of the right shoulder blade towards the spine, where Merle grabbed her earlier and had screamed at Molly, accusing her of being negligent. Almost as if on cue, Merle hollered at her, barking at her to catch up. "Let's go! Move your ass, blondie. We can still catch up to 'em if we follow the railroad tracks," he growled, and just by the tone of the man's voice Molly could tell the guy was seething. He was royally fucking pissed. Though she wasn't quite sure if it was at Jack for allowing the two of them to slip away from the campsite undetected or more for himself. Probably the latter if Molly had to guess, but the young woman really didn't want to, if she was being completely honest with herself right now. Daryl had gone off ahead, ever the expert tracker, Merle was allowing his younger brother to take the lead, though Molly had a sneaking suspicion the older Dixon man had wanted to talk to Molly alone, for reasons unknown to the young blonde, though she felt like she could guess the topic. The Greene girl and the Rhee boy, and what they were up to. Like Molly gave a good goddamn. She didn't care if those two had run away (though a small part of her would be lying if she had confessed to the others that she wasn't at least a little bit relieved that they had.) or they were taking the opportunity to screw like rabbits in the woods. It wasn't any of her business, and why Dixon was so fixated on getting the farm girl back, even Molly couldn't begin to understand his reasons. She wasn't even sure if Merle could even fathom his reasons for doing what he did. Panting, heaving, and clutching onto her ribcage to catch her breath, she had to jog, taking long strides to catch up to where Merle was. Merle scowled and furrowed his brow into a frown at seeing her so winded. "You got a problem, blondie?"

"Yeah, I do," she snapped, not in the mood for Merle's bullshit. " _You're_ the problem, Dixon," she growled, jabbing a sharp finger in his chiseled chest, shoving him backward as hard as she could. Not that it did her much good, but still. Molly had something to say, and she wanted to get her point across. "Why the hell are we out here going after those two? They left! They don't want to stay with us. Shouldn't it be their choice? Not yours." Molly drew in a breath and waited with bated breath, not even aware of the tension in her shoulders while she fully expected Merle to fly into another of his rages and break something of theirs again or go on a drinking binge. She stuck out her bottom lip in a slight pout, waiting. But it didn't come. She blinked owlishly at Merle Dixon, for a moment wondering if he had indulged in too much last night and that explained the sudden shift in his personality.

"Hey!" she snapped, snapping her fingers in front of his face, which seemed to break him out of the moment. "You hear me, old man? I asked you a question! Why are we following them? Look, they left. I get it. You're pissed. But if they don't want to stay, then why the hell should we force them if they'll just be miserable? Let them take their chances out in the world. Forget them. We got ourselves to think about, old man."

Merle blinked, seemingly snapped out of whatever internal conflict was waging on his mind and had caused him to be out of the moment.

He sneered, his lips curling upward into a twisted grimace that gave the man a truly frightening appearance, and Molly heard a tiny gasp of surprise escape her lips as she took a step backward.

She could suddenly understand why Maggie had chosen to leave.

She'd seen how this creep looked at her. Molly swallowed hard past the lump forming in her throat and stifled a pained cry of surprise as Merle violently grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward, close enough for him to kiss her if he was of a mind to. Molly crinkled her nose in disgust.

"Don't fuckin' talk to me like that, bitch, you feel me?" he breathed, his voice going dangerously soft and quiet, which Molly immediately knew she hated. "You wanna survive in this fuckin' cruel world, you follow me, understand? Don't ever say no to what I want or even hesitate, dollface. The minute you joined my ranks, you became mine to do with whatever the fuck I want till I tell you to leave. If I tell you to leave. You play your cards right, Blondie, and good things'll happen to you. Disappoint and bad things are comin' your way. I hope you get what I'm sayin', Pretty Miss Molly," Merle growled, his eyes flashing angrily as he reached up a surprisingly tender hand to caress her cheek. "I'm sure you'd like to keep this pretty little face of yours beautiful, now, wouldn't ya? Mind your tongue around me, or you're gonna lose it, doll." Molly stuttered, feeling what little color was left in her face drain, watching as Merle stood there, a sort of toddler expanded to the size of an adult. There was irritation in his anger, a sort of impetuousness.

The young blonde watched as the man's hair wafted in the hot summer breeze, moving over the man's red and weathered skin that yearned for more shade and rest. His dark eyes were beady, mean, and on the small side, as if afraid to let the light in. Merle's mouth was small and rigid, as if only used for the kind of smiles that masked cruelty. Born of a lifetime of suspicion and the special kind of superiority that radiated contempt.

His was one of those mouths that only twitched upwards when a deception was achieved. "You don't like it here with us, you can go on an' crawl back to that fucking freak show of a shithole Crawford."

A small laugh escaped her lips, Molly hardly daring to believe what she was hearing. "Freak show? Oh, man, old man, if you're here, I'm already there." She let out a snicker as Merle opened and closed his mouth like a fish, spluttering and struggling to think of a retort and she turned her back. His face mottled crimson, his eyes popped, his tree trunk neck strained. His words were spat out with the ferocity and rapidity of machine gun fire. Without wiping the spit from her ashen face, Molly leaned over, perfectly composed and uttered just three simple words.

"I don't care." Merle's fuse simmered and fizzled like a firework in a cold autumn breeze, and then he exploded with unrestrained fury. Molly remained as still as a cadaver and just as pallid, unblinking against the older Dixon's onslaught. Then with a barely concealed smirk, she turned on the heels of her boots and walked away, pulling the hood of her red hoodie over her choppy blonde pixie cut, her hands shoved in her pockets as though strolling through the city park on a day, not following the railroad tracks to bring back Rhee and Greene back to the campsite, kicking and screaming if they had to. Molly ignored Merle's shouts to get the hell back here…or _else_. She briefly heard Daryl shout something inaudible to his older brother and that momentarily got his attention focused on something else.

"Thank God," she grumbled darkly, kicking at a pebble with her boot. The feisty blonde with the fiery temper stuck her tongue out at Dixon's back as Merle jogged ahead of her to catch up to whatever Daryl had spotted. Merle's cold fury burnt with a dangerous intensity. She never worried about the guy's frequent fireworks and red hot sparks. It was these bitterly cold, slow burning rags that threatened to consume him. Molly and everyone else knew the rules.

As long as they followed Merle's lead with no questions asked, everybody was friends and got along like fucking chums. He would talk in his animated colorful way about his life and petty grievances while Molly would pretend to show concern, empathy, and sometimes drop in a helpful suggestion or two at times. It was just the way of life if you wanted to survive with minimal instances. Molly furrowed her brow into a frown as she saw Daryl point towards something. She drew in a sharp breath and held it. Atlanta.

"Ugh. Are we really going to do this? Those two aren't fucking worth all this. If they want to leave then fucking let them go, asshole," Molly scowled, talking more to herself than anyone else in the moment. It was more directed towards Merle than anyone else. Briefly, she wondered what was going to become of Jack once they got back to the campsite.

_Maybe Merle'll kill him_ , she thought, and scrunched her nose in disgust. _Wouldn't put it past the fucking creep_.

Intrigued by whatever the two Dixon boys were discussing, Molly jogged and paused, lingering behind when she got about a good ten feet away. "Tracks stop at the edge. They went into the city. Where you wanna look first? Maybe they went to the armory for weapons? You wanted to go there anyways so start there, I guess. If they ain't there, we'll find em. Not like they could have gotten that far ahead of us, Merle. Cool it." Daryl murmured to his brother in a low guttural grunt.

Molly had to repress the urge to roll her eyes. Sometimes she wondered if the younger Dixon brother had been brought up by cavemen in a past life. All the guy ever did was grunt and point, make noncommittal noises. _You aren't a man of many words, but when you do talk, you make it count_ , thought Molly, and for reasons she could not explain, felt an inexplicable swelling of admiration in her chest as Merle made a derogatory comment towards Rhee and Greene, and Daryl had seemingly had enough. _Maybe there's more to you than just following Merle_. _Wonder what the hell your story is, Dixon_ , she thought, making a mental note to ask Daryl later.

"We're goin' after 'em, but I ain't puttin' up with any of your shit anymore, Merle, it's fucking disgusting" growled Daryl, seizing his brother by the scruff of his shirt. "You wanna try to bring 'em back with us, we can _talk_. But we can't force Maggie to do anything she doesn't wanna, you feel me, Merle?"

Daryl did not give his brother a chance to respond before violently shoving him away, leaving Merle effectively rendered speechless for a third time in one day.

That's gotta be something of a record, Molly thought, biting her bottom lip in an effort to keep from erupting into a bought of inappropriate laughter at Merle. If she laughed at him, there was a good chance their leader's hand would meet her face, and it wouldn't be to caress her cheek.

He made to turn away when he froze, something caught his eye. Furrowing his brow into a frown, he knelt in the grass that lay at the edge of the city that separated Atlanta from the rest of the woods near the highway. Scowling, he pursed his lips into a thin line and touched the indentation. It was the marking of a boot print, but not any of theirs, and judging from the looks of how the leaves had been rustled, the way they moved, it quickly became clear to Daryl that Merle was not the only one hellbent on following Maggie and Glenn. "Fuck," he growled angrily. It wasn't a walker's footprint, it was far too neat and coordinated for such a footprint.

Merle noticed the sudden shift in his brother's attitude and knelt, his eyes narrowing until they were mere slits. He saw what his younger brother was touching and almost growled with the effort to restrain himself from lashing out at something in anger, curling his hands into a fist.

They weren't the only ones following Maggie Greene and Glenn Rhee.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

Glenn’s fingertips had to be electric, they must be, because whenever the pads of his fingers brushed against Maggie’s skin, it tingled in a frenzy of static. As his hands moved over her body, it felt like her entire self had a transitory paralysis, her mind unable to process the pleasure so fast.

Maggie had felt like she needed the comfort following her little outburst when Glenn had found the flag, and she knew he needed the comfort as much as she needed to take it, so she felt like it kind of worked both ways. They’d been able to find a relatively secluded corner—one of the dressing rooms in fact—of an abandoned department store on the outskirts of downtown Atlanta. His head moved around to her left ear and started to whisper again for the tenth time if Maggie was sure. Suddenly, her body felt like it was off pause mode as she pulled back for a kiss that was both soft and hard. She smashed her lips against his mid-sentence, not even letting Glenn complete his thought and he leaned back. Maggie started to unbutton his shirt and he turned his head again.

“A—are you sure, Maggie?” He let out a startled groan as her hand brushed against his thigh as she smiled and continued until she got to his jeans. Her hands shook with anticipation. Her head was filled with crazy thoughts. Half of them raging horny thoughts while others tormented at her and screaming at her to stop this. _What the hell am I doing? Poor Daddy and Beth would have a heart attack if they could see me now_.

She had, as a general rule, always tried to set an example for her little sister, Beth, growing up, and something tells her were Beth or Daddy still alive and were to discover her in a rather compromising position like this in the back of a clothing department in a dressing room, abandoned or not was beside the point, one leg hiked up and wrapped around Glenn’s waist, still fully clothed, though for how long remained to be seen.

Well…something told her that they would _not_ have approved. Angrily, she shook her head to clear her mind of unhelpful thoughts.

She didn’t want to ruin this, and besides, it didn’t matter what they would have though. They were dead. All of them. Before Maggie could even think, they were naked, their clothes tossed in a haphazard pile in the corner. Maggie stopped before he touched her and they leaned against the wall of the dressing room together, hardly daring to believe all of it.

“Y—you’re sure, Maggie?” Glenn’s voice and shook with excitement.

Maggie smiled. “Shut the hell up, Glenn, and kiss me, or I might change my mind,” she teased, quirking her brow at him and biting her bottom lip in a flirtatious way, grinning into their kiss as he leaned down and kissed her, and her heart skipped three beats. For a man who claimed that he’d never been kissed before, let alone never had sex before, Glenn learned fast. Definitely fast on his feet and knew how to get in and out.

She snorted, almost erupting into a bout of wicked laughter, but quickly fought it back. Maggie didn’t want to spoil the moment.

Her stomach fluttered and she threw her incessant thoughts out of her head. She was ready. He had connected to Maggie in a way that no other guy ever had before, and she’d dated two guys before the world went to shit and she met Glenn, and the thoughts she wanted to keep out instantly took over. _“Nope. I don’t want to. I don’t want to do this.”_

Maggie turned and looked at Glenn’s deep hazel brown eyes. They smiled back at her nervously and rather awkwardly, though there was something reassuring about Glenn, and then she realized, “Yes, I am.”

He was about to crash through her steel walls until she’d go hoarse screaming his name. She didn’t give a damn about noise. They hadn’t spotted any geeks wandering the store that they could see, nor any other signs of life, so as far as they were concerned, they had every cause to believe they were alone. Glenn’s warm flesh took over and his energy soared through Maggie, feeling like each little twitch and movement invigorated Maggie, breathing new life into her, giving her a purpose.

Glenn’s surprisingly strong but gentle hands pinned her arms above her head, his body weight ensuring she remained pushed back up against the dressing room’s wall, and her toes curled at the sheer ecstasy of it all.

He left every part of her untouched, and then, as quick as they started screaming for each other, it was over. Glenn shuddered and Maggie arched her back as he gave one final thrust, riding out the aftershock of his relief in shallow half-thrusts. Glenn slowed down, panting, and gasping for breath and reached over to give her a brief but gentle kiss on the lips. Maggie felt like her head was reeling from the intense pleasure waves that had rocked her to her core. Something she’d never felt when she had dated those other two jackasses prior to Glenn. “That was…way better than the first time,” Maggie gasped, a little giggle escaping her lips.

Glenn wrenched himself off of her and began to pull on his clothes.

“Won’t argue with that,” he smirked, blushing a little at remembering how horribly awkward the first time they had sex was. He hadn’t known what he was doing, but Maggie was unfailingly patient with him and kind. He pulled Maggie close to him and kissed her forehead.

“I have to use the bathroom, Glenn,” she groaned, shoving him away slightly, though not before giving him a brief but affectionate kiss on the cheek. She rose, rather shakily from having been forcefully pinned against the wall and stumbled towards the nearest bathroom, the women’s restroom, to change her clothes. She let out a sigh, running a comb she’d found discarded on the ground in the women’s department through her hair before pulling on a navy blue pullover sweatshirt, her black jeans which were sadly already getting holes near the knees and other spots.

She furrowed her brows into a frown as she laced up her boots. Glenn was seemingly growing attached to her, and she was to him, but there was a part of her that was still struggling to accept it, but she liked him. A lot.

Maggie couldn’t explain it. It was rare of her to make a connection this fast, but Glenn had seen straight through the bullshit, and had slowly begun to chip away at the walls, the hardened exterior around her heart.

A noise startled Maggie out of her preening at the bathroom mirror, and she instinctively felt her hand drift towards the hilt of her dagger.

The knock came quietly at first, and then there was silence. “Glenn?” she called out softly, thinking it was weird if that was him, he had known she was going to be in here and didn’t really need to knock. “That you?”

The knock was louder and faster this time. She felt her feet move of their own accord, no longer taking directions from her brain and huddled towards the corner. A muffled voice that didn’t sound like anyone she recognized came from the other side, but Maggie didn’t reply again.

The voice on the other side was furious now and hit the wall with all his strength, given that Maggie had barricaded the door with a chair, and then with any heavy object they could find. “GREENE! I KNOW YOU’RE IN HERE, YOU LITTLE BITCH! WHERE ARE YOU?”

She froze. Oh, fuck. _Merle_. The outrage, the entitlement, the jurisdiction in his voice frightened her. She needed to leave. Escape.

“Damn. How did those bastards find us?” she whisper-hissed through gritted teeth, looking wildly to the left and right for another way out.

Her body lurched into the darkness of the women’s restroom as she twisted the lock of the door behind her, hoping that Glenn was still safe.

Glenn, Maggie knew and had seen for herself, could find for himself.

But if Merle and the others were here, then that was a _big_ problem.

The pounding of Merle’s footsteps as he beat against the door made her feel so helpless. The guy outweighed her by several pounds, and all she had on her was a dagger, and he probably had a gun. For all she knew, he had shot Glenn. They hadn’t found a gun for her yet, at least not one that worked, nor any shells. They had been meaning to make for the armory to see if they could load up on any viable weapons, but Maggie had foolishly wanted to find warmer clothes for herself and Glenn first, so they had stopped here. Her body slid to the cold tile beneath her, racked in pain and fear. Her bruised chest and stomach blended into the dark. Tears welled in her eyes, flowing against her wishes.

The thoughts were accelerating inside her head. Maggie wanted them to slow so she could breathe, but they wouldn’t. Her breaths came in short, gasping spurts and she felt like she was going to pass out.

The restroom began spinning and she squatted on the floor, a hand out on the wall to steady herself, using it as a brace, trying to make everything slow to something her brain and body could cope with.

“Oh, god,” she moaned, her stomach lurching. She felt so sick. This was all her fault. Glenn was probably captured—maybe hurt—because of _her_. She had not asked for any of us. Hell, he didn’t have to come with her, and now… Maggie violently shook her head, not wanting to think it. Glenn was dead. _He—he’s gone. He’s hurt. He’s bleeding. Merle shot him. He—he needs me and I’m not there. I need to call someone. He’s hurt, fast on his feet, but Merle’s faster. He’s bleeding out and I’m not there_. There was a horrible distance in Maggie’s eyes as she took a few fumbling steps backwards, grabbing her backpack and starting to pry the window open. She would have to climb onto the sink to get out the window, but if she could make a break for it, she could go for help.

Find a weapon, something, come back and save Glenn. Beat Merle.

Holding everything in had become second nature, but too many storms could burst any dam. “Greene?” came Merle’s voice, low and growling. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya, dollface. Open up. Just wanna…chat.”

Maggie felt her hands clamp tightly over her quivering mouth, as his fists pounded on the other side of the door. If she just squeezed her eyes shut and whispered a prayer, then maybe she would wake up from this horrible nightmare. Please, God, can I just wake up? God help me…

“Greene? You in there?” Silence. “Maggie,” Merle’s voice came again lowly. “I’m sorry I hurt you. But you weren’t listenin’ to me.”

Her head perked up at that. He _felt_. How _endearing_. He was _sorry_?

“But you fuckin’ disobeyed me an’ broke several of my rules. I told you never to speak out against me an’ you went an’ did it anyways, bitch, even if it was a slip-up. And now,” he growled, and Maggie’s heart felt like it was creeping into her throat as she heard the muffled sounds of scuffling feet as someone was dragged across the floor. “You got our best runner to go off an’ join you, and that’s not something I can allow, doll.”

“Maggie…” came Glenn’s voice, sounding muffled, as though someone—probably Merle—had gagged him. “R—run!” he ordered.

“I _knew_ you was puttin’ the wood to the girl in there, boy,” Merle’s voice bellowed, “I fuckin’ _knew_ there was something going on between you two behind my back, so forgive me, Chinglish, for being so goddamned infuriated. Now, Mags,” Merle snarled, and the coldness in his voice sent a tremor of fear down her spine. “If you don’t open this _goddamned_ door on the count of three, I _will_ knock it down and what happens to you an’ the Asian boy after that…” Merle Dixon didn’t dare finish the rest of that sentence. Her eyes widened and she sprung up and then darted to the window at the far side of the room. “3…2…1…”

Maggie didn’t stick around to hear the splintering of the door as Merle finally kicked it open, throwing his entire bodyweight against the door.

All she heard was the shattering of the door as it practically blew off the hinges as she jumped up on the sink, clambering for the ledge to crawl out the window. The intermingling of Merle’s raging screams and Glenn’s muffled shouts rent the otherwise silent air, and if they didn’t quiet down and soon, they were probably going to attract walkers.

Maggie jumped as around bloodcurdling shout of Merle Dixon rang through the air, and if she didn’t move and fast, he would catch up to her. She kept running but she knew before she’d made it a hundred feet, her time was up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something sharp and long coming towards her. Maggie froze, adapting a fight-or-flight stance. All she had was Herschel’s dagger. In that moment, the quiet had become eerie. Maggie stopped, ears straining. The streets of Atlanta, even now, had never been like this, like some empty movie set, even with all the walkers running around, which, thank God, there were only a few.

Maggie turned around, her eyes taking in every little detail, seeing things she’d never had the gall to notice before since she and Glenn arrived. There were so many places Merle and his guys could hide.

“Hey, girl. What’s your rush? Wanna play?” An unfamiliar man stepped out from behind a sun-bleached red van. His hands were empty but given the sudden scuffles coming from all around, Maggie knew this was it, the promised ambush, and she had walked right into this trap.

The others in the guys’ gang stepped forward with confidence. They wanted her. They expected easy pickings, that she’d just give up without a fight. Her brain was racing a mile a minute for a way out of this. _Glenn_.

 _Save Glenn. Screw Merle, he can choke for all you care, but save Glenn_. Her conscience ordered her to find a way out of her current mess.

There were only four of them—all guys, and all of them looked a lot stronger than her. Not anybody she recognized, not part of Merle’s crew.

Though Maggie possessed the gift of agility and speed, and she was good with a blade. She could be cutting down three while the fourth took Glenn hostage. The odds were on her side if she couldn’t talk her way out of this one, but Maggie liked surety when it came to her friends.

Maggie felt her legs tense as she drew out her blade from its sheath. She mumbled a quick prayer to God—if He still even existed for her—that Glenn was going to be okay. Then from nowhere, another gang encircled the other, Maggie blinked, startled, as one of them, the one nearest to Maggie was shot with an arrow right through his left eye.

 _Daryl_ , Maggie thought, eyes wide and round with shock. Squinting, she raised her hand to shield her eyes from the late afternoon sun and wasn’t surprised to find the younger Dixon brother having taken shelter on the store’s awning across the way. How he’d gotten up there, she had no idea, though she was in the moment grateful to him for saving her life.

He was shouting something at her, though he was too far away for her to make out the words. Maggie nodded as Daryl waved his arm, and finally she got it. Go. Run. She whirled on the heel of her boot, fully intending not to get the hell out of here without Glenn, and she winced.

Unflinching, unblinking, the strongest of the gang that had cornered her blocked her path. His face was mostly masked by the hoodie he wore.

The knife that was being toyed with in his thick fingers glimmered in the late afternoon sunlight as it was twirled so deftly. He spoke without any nerves. This wasn’t his first dance in an ambush, but it was Maggie’s.

“What’s your rush, sweetheart?” he crooned throatily. Maggie swallowed as she heard the surrounding footfalls behind her confirmed her suspicions, that the guys that weren’t trying to deal with Daryl had got her cornered. Her hands shook as she raised them above her head.

“Look,” she growled, dark eyes flashing indignantly, as she gave a jerk of her head towards the ground and she kicked over her backpack towards the smallest guy that was flanking the left side of the gang’s leader. “There’s my—my backpack. Just take it and leave me alone.”

A startled shout from behind Maggie caused the tension to momentarily leave her shoulders. A chill ran through her spine as she heard Glenn’s yell of help. Her blood ran cold and a bead of sweat dripped down her face. She stood there, helpless, not knowing what to do and too scared to think. “Glenn,” she breathed. One glance over her shoulder behind her was more than enough. “Oh my god,” she moaned.

When Glenn first came into view, she didn’t recognize him, he was too far away, and his gait was all wrong. She could briefly see Merle behind him, looking worse for wear and sporting one hell of a black eye.

Poor Glenn walked more like a scarecrow than a man and lopsided. As he neared and was shoved to the ground violently with one good shove from Merle, Maggie’s heart lurched in her throat. He was more purple than white, covered in cuts and bruises. Whatever the hell Merle had done to him had been brutal. His left eye was swollen shut, he couldn’t be seeing a thing out of that and he wouldn’t for a while yet, she knew.

His face still bore congealed blood, his black hair matted and tangled, and his clothes were an utter mess. Then he tried to say Maggie’s name.

Glenn’s cracked and bleeding lips failed at the first syllable, but he didn’t need to. She was already on her feet and running towards Merle.

She paid no attention to the angry shouts of the gang members behind her. “You—you horse’s ass!” she hollered and wasn’t thinking at all when she let out her boiling rage and antipathy and swung her fist tight, too quick, and potent into Merle’s defined and bleeding jaw. At least it looked like Glenn had gotten in a solid hit or two. The impact like thousands of venomous blades piercing apart her clammed up fist.

It led Maggie to the only conclusion: that it really hurt. Maggie let out a scream as she felt a strong hand violently grip her hair and tug on it hard. “Shh,” the stranger’s voice growled, brutal against her right ear.

Maggie struggled against the gang’s leader, shooting her right leg out as she felt herself being forcefully pulled away from Merle and Glenn’s barely conscious form, who had lost the strength to stand and was standing in front of Merle, kneeling on his knees in the streets of Atlanta.

Her movements were too slow. The guy’s hands moved from the waistband of her jeans, and the stranger seized Maggie’s arms, trapping them to her side. He pushed her roughly further into the alley, the agile gesture causing Maggie to stumble, almost falling flat on the side of her face. She let out a pained whimper and swallowed hard, not wanting to meet the stranger’s eyes. “Do whatever you’re gonna do to me,” she growled, spitting out the words as if they were poison, “and go to hell.”

In one last act of defiance, she spat in the man’s face. Maggie let out a startled gasp and clenched her eyes, violently turning her head to the side to avoid looking her captor in his cold blue eyes. His coarse whiskey tongue licked at her skin, stubby fingers finding purchase in the back of her hair, curling into a fist. Every time Maggie closed her eyes, he bashed her head backwards onto the brick wall of the building, demanding she open them. She didn’t want to, she closed them over and over, anything rather than watch his face light up with power and lust.

The guy became angry, his force less controlled as his sausage fingers, short and stubby, fumbled, trying to undo her jeans. Finally, blood ran from the back of her head onto the brick wall of the rundown diner behind them, and her head lolled like a doll, black spots swimming in her vision. “No,” she whisper-hissed through gritted teeth, weakly trying to smack his hands away as he continued trying to take off her jeans. “Go.”

A shot rent through the air in front of Maggie, behind the gang leader—way too powerful to be a backfiring car. The noise reverberated in her ears and rang out far over the hills. Maggie startled, too weak to move and make a run for it, desperately fighting the swirls of black mist that danced in the front of her mind. _Have to stay awake_ , she thought.

_Can’t go to sleep. Glenn…needs help…_

Even the passage of light in the alleyway slowed, and aside from the beat of her own heart, Maggie didn’t move a muscle. That pounding inside beat a rhythm to the words of the stranger’s sudden execution, the cold steel the man’s judge, jury, and Merle Dixon, the executioner.

The bullet entered the guy as if he were nothing, just meat, blood, and bones, blasting a cavity into the man’s back as it burst a shower of crimson into the fading day. His face, his jawline coated with a three-day stubble and dirtied, was now frozen, blue eyes wide open, mouth slack, as he was propelled backward. The man’s eyes held Maggie’s, and in those fractions of seconds, her would-be attacker was there and then gone.

Maggie’s skin went ashen as she blearily lifted her head off the wall and stumbled forward, trying, and struggling to meet Daryl’s brother’s gaze. “Y—you…saved my life, Dixon,” she managed to gasp out hoarsely. She stumbled a bit before she fell, Merle and Daryl making a grab for her arms as she tumbled to the street. Then she lay there in the back alleyway’s street, as still as a corpse, barely breathing at all, but not before she uttered two simple words, which both men would have missed had they not already been hanging onto her every word. _“Thank you….”_

Her heartbeats pounded against her chest loudly, echoing in her ears, alongside fading pleas for help. The feeling in her body drained away as she lost herself to the unconsciousness of a dreamless sleep, with only one thought on her mind as her eyelids fluttered closed as her body dove for those black tidal waves of sweet relief that was sleep, anything to escape the pain her body was feeling. Only one thought was on her mind now.

Merle Dixon had saved her life.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

Maggie blearily opened her eyes and awoke to the frigid cold of an unfamiliar room, alone. Wait. _Alone_? "Glenn…?" she whispered hoarsely, hating how parched her throat was. She wished she had water.

She sat up straighter, her head pounding at the back of her skull. A hand on her forehead, using the other to steady herself, using the wall as a brace, Maggie shakily rose to her feet. "Fuck," she hissed angrily.

Wherever the hell she was, whoever had captured her was holding her captive in some kind of awful prison. The jail cell was nothing like she'd been expecting. She'd seen all the TV shows. There ought to be metal creaking bunk beds, a small barred window, and a surly cell-mate who would become her new best friend, maybe more if she were unlucky.

Maggie wasn't expecting a little wooden shelf, a dirty blanket, and a bucket. The walls were old stones from the quarry and the floor was too.

Everything in this shithole was hard and cold. There was nothing to give back the body heat that was rapidly being stolen from her body.

The reality of being caged in here until someone let her out began to sink in. Then Maggie's eyes cast downward, and she noticed the metal breakfast tray at her feet, nothing special, but it carried a packet of crackers, a full bottle of actual real bottled water and a new-looking apple.

She shivered and wrapped her arms around her thick black sweater and sat on the bench. A woman's voice came through the vent close by.

"Eat." Maggie jumped, not having seen anybody else nearby, too engrossed in her own surroundings and how the hell she'd gotten here to pay any close attention. She turned to see a pair of blue eyes pressed against the narrow strip of glass. Whoever this woman was, she intended to watch and make sure Maggie ate the food that was given to her.

Which she was reluctant to do. She didn't know this woman, for all Maggie knew, the food could have been poisoned. "Where's Glenn?"

Her voice came out curt and demanding, though she was unable to fight back the tremor. Maggie swallowed back the lump in her throat.

"Fuck," she whispered, staying seated, her arms crossed even tighter.

That's when the door swung open and the owner of the female voice with the surprisingly kind but harsh voice stepped in, just her by herself.

" _Eat_ ," she snapped again, her voice cold. "I didn't save you and your friends from Leroy and his guys just so you could starve yourself. You were lucky my group was out scouting and found you when we did, otherwise you wouldn't have…" She didn't bother to finish her sentence.

She didn't need to. Maggie wanted to laugh it off, but she could tell by the look in the newcomer's eyes that the older woman was deadly serious. She glanced down at the tray and picked up the packet of crackers and cheese mix.

The woman rolled her eyes. "I haven't poisoned it if that's what you're asking. Believe it or not, I don't kill everyone I first meet." The older woman folded her arms across her chest and rested against the wall of the prison cell for support, stepping forward into the dim light just slightly, just enough for Maggie to make out the details of her face.

She had to be about fifty or so, Maggie guessed, though still quite pretty. The woman was dressed in a pair of olive green cargo pants, black combat boots, and a simple brown shirt and maroon colored jacket, her graying hair cut short in almost a buzz cut, though it had started to grow out just a little, and had curled at the ends, especially the wisps around her ears. Her forehead was wrinkled by many peaks and trenches - caused by years of consistent scowling - which unflatteringly crowned eyes that permanently harbored a disdainful glare, shadowing their beautifully unique shade of blue.

Her entire face seemed drained of any signs of joy and amusement, instead her gaunt cheeks told a tale of regular displeasure. A knife in its sheath sat idle around her hip, and Maggie instinctively felt her gaze drift down towards her jeans and breathed a sigh of relief. Whoever had brought her here had allowed her to keep it, and her backpack and little brown square canvas messenger bag that sort of acted as her purse and survival satchel in this day and age lay tossed in a corner.

"What's your name?" Maggie asked, after a moment's hesitation finally unwrapping the packet of crackers and taking a bite, seeing the woman's stance hadn't changed and she wasn't going to be leaving anytime soon. "Wh—where are the others? The people I was with. Pair of brothers. Kind of rednecks. One wears a vest with wings on the back. Other's military. Merle and Daryl Dixon, and a younger guy, Korean. His name's Glenn. He's my…" Maggie felt the crack in her voice as her sentence trailed off.

What exactly _were_ they? Together? Boyfriend and girlfriend? They'd never really discussed it. She'd meant to, but…they just hadn't a chance, and now, the others in her group were nowhere to be found. For all she knew, they were dead. Still, she had to know.

She tried again. "Where's Glenn? I wanna know if he's safe."

"The Korean boy?" the woman asked, looking surprised as she shifted her weight to her other foot, unfolding her arms. "He's safe. Worrying himself to death over you, probably. Least he was last time I checked," she chuckled darkly, shaking her head in disbelief. "I'll let him know you're up and you can visit him in a little while. I kept the guys apart from you when me and a few others in our group brought you here. Didn't like how the one guy was looking at you," she admitted, furrowing her gray brows together in a frown. "Like he was pissed."

_Merle_ , Maggie thought darkly, and then she frowned, remembering how he'd shot that guy who'd almost gotten away with assaulting her.

Maggie mutely nodded, shoveling another cracker into her mouth, not wanting to meet the strange woman's piercing blue gaze.

"I'll take you to them in a little bit after you've had a chance to rest," the woman offered. "Don't worry, I'm not keeping anybody prisoner here. It's just a temporary precaution, I'm sure you can understand, till our group decides what to do with you. I'm not the leader here, but I have enough of a say, I guess. For you at least, I can put in a good word since I can tell you're kind, and don't mean our people any harm here," she added, seeing how Maggie had opened her mouth to protest. "Just want to make sure you're okay first. Don't need you passing out on us again. You fell when you hit your head. You should sleep."

The bitterness in her voice was unmistakable as she no doubt referred to the hungry look that Merle would get in his eyes anytime he looked at Maggie. Maggie flinched, knowing that meeting a little later was probably going to be nothing short of awkward, and possibly dangerous. The woman gave a curt nod of her head and took away the breakfast tray, turning her back towards Maggie and was preparing to leave, the cell door opened, when Maggie called out to her, wanting to know her answer. "Wait!" she called out, hating the desperation in her voice, just wishing that someone else besides Glenn, Daryl, and Molly were on her side. Maybe this woman would wind up becoming a friend. Maybe.

She hadn't poisoned the food she'd brought Maggie, and she could detect no animosity in her tone when they'd talked for a few minutes.

"You never told me your name," Maggie whispered, hoping her voice sounded neutral. She bit her bottom lip in a slight pout, waiting.

The woman with the gray buzz cut hesitated, turning her head over her shoulder slightly to look at her, offering Maggie an ambivalent smile.

"Carol."

* * *

Glenn felt the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in his abdomen. The tension grew in his face and limbs, his mind replaying the events of what the hell had happened over and over in his mind, the beating he'd taken from Merle, and who the hell had taken them and brought them here? Something had happened to Maggie, it had to have. She was gone.

Maggie was gone, and all of them were trapped in this jail cell with no way out. Only one of the outside group had the keys to their freedom.

He didn't know who had brought them here. Some woman who seemed kind enough, at least from what he could remember of her voice, as it had faded in and out of his eardrums, but he hadn't met anybody else in her group, given he'd been kind of in between consciousness at the time.

And now, Maggie was missing, and he was trapped in here with _him_. Just fucking _perfect_.

"It's _your fucking_ _fault_ , Chinglish," growled Merle Dixon darkly, where he sat huddled in a corner, his back resting against the cold wall of whatever prison cell the woman had placed them in. Glenn wondered if they were still even in Atlanta. It was too dark in here to tell, and no windows. "I warned you what would happen to ya if you went out without me, an' now look. We're fuckin' trapped in here, no way out."

"How the hell is this _my_ fault?" Glenn shouted, his temper flaring, and it created an uncomfortable pit deep within the confines of his stomach. " _You're_ the one who followed and attacked us, Dixon. If you wouldn't have started it, those other assholes wouldn't have gotten the jump on us. And now, because you couldn't control yourself, Maggie's probably dead and we're trapped in this goddamned cell with no way out!" It took all of Glenn's resolve not to throw himself with all his strength at Merle and not strangle the bastard where he sat in the corner.

Molly's voice from the top bunk bed of the cell wafted through the room as she poked her head over the edge of the bed, talking to Daryl. "Maybe he'll kill him," she laughed. "God knows he's wanted to."

"Ain't nobody gonna die on my watch," growled Daryl in response, his hand instinctively drifting towards his dagger, as if to emphasize his point. Glenn bit his bottom lip hard enough to bleed, trying his hardest to keep his temper under control, but he felt like he was failing miserably.

Their prison cell that gray-haired lady had placed them until her group could decide what to do with them was a hollow little cube of concrete, one way in, no windows. In there, they all had no idea how much time had really passed, or if it was even night and day. It was totally disorienting by design. Given enough time, a person could forget their own name in here. The isolation was total and the stimulation zero.

A snort from Daryl from the other corner of the room momentarily quelled Glenn's rage.

"Gonna take more'n that to kill that girl, Rhee, don't you worry none bout Maggie, all right?" he growled, though there was a hint of admiration in the younger Dixon man's voice. "I like her. She's tough. Got a good spirit. Fights well. I dunno that I've ever seen anything like it. If you wouldnta scared her off, Merle, we'd all be back at the camp, Merle, and she wouldn't have run away. If this is anybody's fault, it's yours. Own up to it! Let's just all calm down, right? We don't wanna re-enact a scene from _My Bloody Valentine_ here, do we?" snapped Daryl, rolling his eyes. "We got other problems to worry about other than who's

"Shut the fuck up, little bro," Merle growled, baring his teeth.

Glenn stifled a low warning growl in the back of his throat, balling his hands into fists and hitting the wall behind him, a release of frustration.

"Don't lie to me, Dixon!" he growled, stifling his smile of satisfaction as Merle's eyes darkened. His attempt to goad him was working. He didn't care if Merle gave him another beating within an inch of his life. "I know you drove away Maggie somehow back at the camp. What the hell did you do? What did you say to her? Tell me the truth. **TELL ME**!" he bellowed, his shouts reverberating off the walls of their little jail cell.

Glenn was more than ready to wipe the smug smirk off Merle's face, no matter what it took. He felt his blood boil and adrenaline course through his veins as he bolted from his side of the cell and launch himself at Merle, curling his fingers into tight fists around Merle's t-shirt, hardly aware of Daryl's strong arms wrapping around Glenn's middle and violently wrenching him away from his older brother.

For as long as he'd been with Merle, every time the guy opened his mouth, Glenn just got angrier. At first, he'd swallow his retort and just do it, anything to stay on Dixon's good side, just smile and move on with life. But that only made it worse. Then he felt empowered to micromanage every little aspect of everyone else's lives, every damn thing done his damn way, screw what everybody else in their group wanted.

And now, because of Merle fucking Dixon, Maggie was probably hurt. Or dead. Or even worse, whatever could possibly be worse than death. Tortured to death slowly. Raped over and over again. His overactive imagination was going into overdrive, thinking of whatever Maggie was enduing.

And that was when Glenn just…snapped, feeling the shift within himself as he allowed his rage to consume him, all his anger coming out faster than hot lava and just as destructive, if not even more. "You piece of shit, I-I'll kill you, Dixon! This is all _your_ fault!" Glenn wasn't thinking when he let out his boiling rage and swung his tight fist, quick and sharp into Merle Dixon's defined jaw, the impact like thousands of blades piercing apart his clammed up fist. "FUCK!"

He swore, jerking his hand back and rubbing it gingerly. It _hurt_.

"You done?" demanded Daryl angrily, stepping in between his brother and Glenn, his angry gaze flitting between Glenn and Merle. "We got us a bigger goddamn problem than letting you duke this out."

Molly chimed in, hopping off from the top bunk and brushed back a stray wisp of blonde hair behind her ear shyly. "Like how the fuck to get out of here," she chimed in, her brows knitting together in confusion. "Deal with this bullshit over Maggie later. First, we gotta find her—"

"That woman's got the key," Daryl interjected. "Ain't gettin' outta here without the key. Unless anybody's got any better ideas, we're gonna haveta wait till she comes back an' try to make a run for it if this lady an' her group turns out to be not so damn friendly to us. Find Maggie an' get the hell out of this place for good," he added, glancing around the cell.

Glenn opened his mouth to violently protest this idea, that they couldn't just sit around and wait for this new group to kill them all, but didn't get a chance to speak as the same woman from earlier, the one who looked like she knew more than she let on, hovered at the front of their closed cell door, the keys in her hands. Glenn swallowed nervously.

Her blue eyes were cold, though something in her expression softened as she met Glenn's gaze, who promptly dropped the fistfuls of Merle's t shirt he'd been holding onto in a vice grip and violently shoved him back. He strode over towards the door, curling his fingers around the iron bar of the door.

"Where the hell is Maggie?" he growled angrily. "What have you done with her? Tell me where she is right now or I'll—"

" _Relax_." The woman with the gray buzz cut and brilliant blue eyes looked startled, though she quickly recovered, setting her facial expression to one of passive indifference. "Safe. She's safe. You're all safe for now. Our group's not going to kill you. Jesus. You're Glenn? Glenn Rhee?" she asked.

There was something in her eyes that he could not quite read, but judging by the way her harsh tone dropped and she lowered her voice an octave, leaning forwards and speaking so softly to Glenn that he almost had to strain to hear her, he felt like he knew he could trust this woman. "She'll see you later. But she wants to talk to Merle right now."

Merle threw back his head and laughed. "Hear that, boy? She finally came to her senses and decided to dump your sorry ass and go for a _real_ man. Ain't no way you can keep her satisfied in bed, am I right? That Greene bitch is fine. Tits just the right size, ass up to her armpits. Not much I wouldn't do to get a shot at experiencing those…"

The woman lingering outside of their cell door frowned, rapping on the bars of the door with her knuckles.

"You know, I thought about killing you, but Rick, our leader, told me not to, so we brought you back here," she added, her icy blue gaze fixed on Merle. "The way you were putting up such a fuss over the girl, you could have attracted every walker in the vicinity for miles. And now you're doing it again. Are you _stupid_?" she asked, to which she didn't notice Daryl's mouth practically hang open in shock. No woman save for Greene had ever talked to Merle like that. "No," she decided after a moment as she scrutinized Merle Dixon's appearance. "You're not, are you? Just a bit thick in the head." She turned back towards Glenn and shot him a sympathetic little smile. "So? You both coming?"

"What? Screw that! No _way_! I don't trust her alone with him! He'll kill her!" he shouted, feeling as though his insides had been doused with ice water. "N—not without me there with her. You don't know this asshole like I do, Miss uh…?" His voice trailed off, as he realized this woman hadn't exactly told any of them her name yet. "You got a name?"

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. "Carol."

Odd. Kind of an old-fashioned name, but whatever. Glenn shook his head to clear his mind of the dark thoughts raging in his mind and felt his grip on the bars of the door tighten. "Carol. Okay. Fine, whatever. Yeah, I'm Glenn, and that's Merle and Daryl, brothers, and that's Molly. We don't mean you or your group any harm, we just wanna get out of here, and Maggie's my… my girlfriend," he answered after a long hesitation.

Carol bit her bottom lip, furrowing her brows in a frown. She removed the ring of keys from the loop around her cargo pants and flung open the door, and she set down a metal tray of food on a night table next to the bunk beds.

"Brought you guys some food," she answered simply. She fixed Merle with a strange little smile neither one of them were quite sure what to make of. "It's not much, I'm afraid, but given what we've had, what we had to go through to get here, it's enough."

Carol offered that wry little smile and turned towards Glenn, who looked like he wanted nothing more than to bolt and go find the girl.

"I should have been dead several times over, but the group I'm with saved me. Rick and the others," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. She crossed one leg over the other and absentmindedly began preening at her nails, which were already cut down, close to the quick. She turned her attention to Merle.

"Ain't that the truth for us all," Merle piped up, his tone casual, though Glenn could tell just by looking at Carol that the older woman wasn't fooled. She had piqued Merle's interest, and she wasn't leaving this cell block until she'd made her point, whatever it was she needed to say.

"I think part of the reason I'm not is because…people underestimate me," she explained, still picking at her nails, though she glanced up every so often to gauge Merle's reaction. "Don't underestimate me. And don't underestimate _her_. Maggie. I don't know what your intentions are with her, but I'm telling you right now. Back off and leave her alone. Don't touch her again. You did that once already, and look where it got you," she snorted, gesturing towards the cell. "Just like you underestimate the girl. You've got a chance for a new life here with us if you want it. I think Rick's decided you all can stay, but he wants to meet you first. Tonight. If you screw this up, mess this up for yourselves, if you touch her in any way and I find out about it. I will slit your throat while you sleep." Her words, coming from her, were like poisoned honey. They sounded sweet, but underneath the honeyed sweetness, was venom.

Carol flung open the door wide enough. "Well?" she demanded, quirking her brow at Glenn and Merle. "Maggie wants to talk to you, Dixon, and I guess there's no point in telling you to wait here, Glenn, since that look on your face says you'd find a way to follow him anyways," she sighed sounding defeated, shaking her head in disbelief. "C'mon then if you're coming. She's waiting for the both of you."

Daryl and Molly were left alone in the corridor as Carol let them out, too shocked and at a complete loss for words as they watched Glenn and Merle follow Carol down the hallway to go speak to Maggie.

Molly was the first to regain her ability to speak. "What the fuck was that?" she whispered, shrinking into her red hoodie for warmth. "What the hell just happened, Dixon?" she asked, turning to look at Daryl.

Daryl didn't fucking know and shrugged his shoulders in response.

"C'mon," he grunted, waving his arm, motioning for Molly to follow him. "I ain't sticking around this dump not knowing what's going on or where the hell we're at. I ain't gonna let Merle hurt Maggie anymore. I know, he's my brother and he's a stubborn asshole and a jackass, but even I got limits. The shit he keeps tryin' to do to Maggie is going way too far. He crossed a nonnegotiable big ass fucking landmine when he tried to go for Glenn. Boy might be kinda a fuck up and weird, but he's our best runner, an' if we lose him, we're royally fucked," Daryl growled darkly.

"What about this new group?" Molly asked, her eyes darting sideways as she shifted Hilda in her hands to her left hand, her dominant one. "Think we can trust them? D'you really think they would let us stay?"

Daryl shrugged his shoulders as they followed Merle and Glenn down the hall, careful to keep their distance. "Only one way to find out…"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Just sitting on the cold cement wall of what looked to be a prison courtyard made Maggie’s breathing rapid and shallow. She could feel her pulse pounding in her temples. A muscle twitched involuntarily at the corner of her right eye, her mouth forming a rigid grimace as she spotted Glenn and Merle’s approaching forms, Glenn looking relieved to see she was unharmed, and Merle…looking…amused. Maggie frowned a little.

Cold sweat glistened on her furrowed brow. With her hands clasped tightly in front of her stomach, she constantly fiddled with her knuckles, weaving her fingers in and out of each other, picking at a loose thread on her black sweater. When the frustration at what Merle had previously tried to do build and she thought her mind was going to explode, Maggie inhaled and exhaled slowly, forcing her breathing to remain calm.

She wanted nothing more than to shout, have a tantrum and beat her hands on the ground like a toddler, to vent, to let it all out, but she knew she had to remain calm, because if Rick were to see her arguing with Merle, there was a very strong chance he would turn them away.

It was just too damn easy to be mean in the moment and then the damage was done, there was no taking it back. So many times in her life, especially whenever Beth would make her angry, or Daddy would spout one of his beliefs she didn’t necessarily agree with, she wanted to unsay things, to take it all back. She was learning how to deal with it, slowly.

Having a guy like Glenn making her laugh was helping tremendously. “He saved your life. You’re just here to talk and find out why,” she whispered, forcing a fake smile onto her face as the two men approached. Maggie barely stifled her smirk as she noticed Daryl and Molly lingering in the background, choosing to take a seat on one of the benches, no doubt to make sure Merle didn’t try anything stupid again.

While yes, it was true that Merle had taken her against her will and tried to force her into submission by almost raping her, she had been so fearful that he would repeatedly assault her and kill her when finished.

But now, for reasons she could not explain, she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. Maybe it was because they had now found a group of others who were nice enough. She’d met a few of them while waiting for Merle and Daryl to meet her. Rick, the group’s leader, seemed tough but fair.

Carl, the guy’s son, was nice enough. Kind of shy and polite, but deep down she could tell the kid was going to grow up decent. His daddy had raised him well. Then there was Carol, who Maggie could not help but like from the moment she had met her back inside. Michonne, a quiet woman with eyes on Rick and a hell of an expert with a sword.

There were a few others, of course, but the one she wanted to talk to the most was standing right in front of her, his hands in his pockets.

“Glad to see you’re all right,” Glenn breathed, immediately coming to stand next to Maggie. He shot a venomous glare at Merle that was not lost on Maggie. “You good, Maggie?” he demanded, a hand on her shoulder.

She brushed it off, though not before shooting him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Yeah. We’re good. Or we will be once I learn the truth and get some answers. I have to know,” she sighed, turning her attention towards Merle. “You saved my life, Dixon. Why?”

Merle looked surprised her question and shrugged his shoulders in response. “I might be an asshole, Greene, but even I got lines I don’t cross. I don’t kill women,” he growled, his blue eyes flashing angrily as he thought of the creep that had dragged her towards the alleyway and would have raped her right against the wall had he not followed them. “I done a lot in my life that I regretted. Yeah, you’re kinda loud and you got one helluva mouth on you, Mags, and I still think you could do better than Rhee over here,” he added, smirking at the flushed look of outrage on Glenn’s face as a muscle in his jaw twitched. “But I knew I’d regret not helpin’ you an’ letting that asshole take advantage of you.”

_Like you tried to do a couple of days ago_ , is what Maggie almost said, though she stopped herself. She exhaled slowly through her nose and willed herself to calm down.

Merle frowned, noticing how Maggie hesitated in asking her next question. “Look, I get it,” he growled. “I know I’m an evil piece of shit. I know that. People actually give a shit about you, Greene. You’re a cute girl, an’ you know it too, dontcha? Of course you do. How the hell could you not?” he whisper hissed through gritted teeth as he gestured towards Glenn and Maggie to sit on the bench in the prison courtyard.

Glenn hesitated, but after a moment, took Maggie’s hand and led her over to the bench to sit down. Maggie felt her gaze drift downward to her knuckles, only to see that they were white with the effort to steady himself, probably to prevent himself from lashing out and punching Glenn in anger.

“See?” Merle grunted, the corners of his mouth twitching in an unkind sneer as Maggie and Glenn both shot him a dark look. “There’s that look again. You got a survivor spirit in you, girl. I like that. You ain’t weak. You got someone who cares for you,” he admitted begrudgingly, looking towards Glenn, and then back further up the bench to where Molly and Daryl sat close enough to intervene at the first sign of trouble. “I do too, I guess. My little brother’s only one in this life I care about. And Blondie up there too, I guess. But me? Nobody gives a fuck if I get hurt,” he growled. “Nobody fucking cares what happens to me.” Merle cocked his head to the side and regarded Maggie in silence.

“Daryl does,” Glenn pointed out bluntly and Maggie sighed as she felt his hand drift towards her thigh and settle there. “It’d kill him if something happened to you.”

Merle nodded, though his scowl deepened. “Did your parents ever hit you growing up?” The question was out of Merle’s mouth before he could stop himself, and he knew, judging by the horrified look in Glenn and Maggie’s eyes that he already had his answer. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “No. Course they fuckin’ didn’t. But _ours_ did,” he spat, glancing back towards Daryl, whose face remained neutral, but it had gone chalk white. His blue eyes narrowed and a flicker of rage at the unpleasant memories flitting through Merle’s mind passed through his eyes. “I bet your daddy done hugged you every night. I just can’t relate to that. Neither can Daryl,” he sighed, almost sounding remorseful for a second.

Maggie didn’t know what to say. Neither did Glenn.

“Your daddy wouldn’t do the shit that my dad did to us growing up. Maybe he loved you too much. That’s a fine line to cross, you know. But our daddy did. It’s hard to tell what that line is when you’re just a kid, but back then, I knew the shit our daddy did to us was wrong. He was an asshole of the highest fuckin’ order, so I took matters into my own hands.” As if to emphasize his point, he pulled his lighter out of his shirt pocket and flicked it once, watching the little flame with a dull acceptance. “Cops never did find out it was me, but I did it to protect him,” he growled, jerking his head back towards where Daryl was sitting. “I love my brother. ‘Bout the only good thing I got left in a shitty world.”

Maggie stared, feeling her mouth drop open slightly. She had no clue how to respond to all this. “I—I’m sorry,” she said lowly. “He shouldn’t have done that to you or Daryl. Your daddy was wrong to do those things, but…behaving like you have the past couple days isn’t gonna change anything, Dixon. Stop this now, and you still have a chance. I’m willing to be a friend to you, but you gotta work with me on this.” She glanced towards the group’s leader, Rick, who was eyeballing Merle Dixon with a look of apprehension and mild distrust.

She just he knew he was waiting for a fight to break out.

“SHUT UP!” bellowed Merle, the last of his patience leaving him at last and he lashed out towards Glenn, his hand balling into fist.

Maggie let out a tiny whimper of fear and clenched her eyes shut.

Merle let out a small growl and his hand drifted towards the back of Maggie’s skull, his hands finding purchases in her dark hair. He yanked her hair back roughly, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from Maggie as he tugged. She opened her mouth to say something else to Merle in a last-ditch effort to reach him, but a flash of brown out of the corner of her eye and the tumble of movement had grabbed her attention.

She sucked in a sharp breath of cold fall air and froze.

The group’s leader, Rick, stood just behind Merle, as did Daryl, the sheriff’s gun cocked and pointed at the back of Merle’s head, and Daryl had his crossbow loaded and aimed.

“Stop.” It was a command, Rick’s voice hardened and angry. “Calm down, or I _will_ throw you all out of here,” the man’s voice growled.

Daryl was next to speak up. “Merle. Stop this shit. It’s over, man.”

Merle’s gaze widened, a muscle in his jaw twitching and a vein in his neck seemed to spasm as he turned around slightly, letting out a low warning growl from the back of his throat. “Little brother,” he snapped. “Turn the fuck around and walk away. Go back. This ain’t your fight.”

“No.” Daryl’s answer was firm, though it warbled slightly, and it sounded like the younger Dixon brother’s voice lacked the conviction to sell the argument he really wanted to make. “I ain’t gonna abandon my brother. You know the way you’re actin’ towards Maggie isn’t right. I don’t give a shit if you’re the one that burnt down our house or not. You’re right. Our parents were assholes. I told you the once. Ain’t gonna let you destroy yourself no more. I know there’s still some good in you.”

Merle scoffed and Daryl frowned as he lowered his crossbow, watching as Merle slowly raised his hands above his head in self defense and stood from the bench, turning around to face his younger brother, and the leader of the group, Rick Grimes, who was still looking pissed.

“Wish I coulda told you sooner,” Daryl snapped. “This ain’t who you really are, Merle. You gotta fight this side of yourself,” he urged. “Fight it.”

Maggie bit her bottom lip hard enough to bleed as Merle’s towering, hulky form began to shake, almost uncontrollably, and his blue eyes widened as he watched his younger brother drop his crossbow and embrace his older brother in a hug, not saying a word, and Maggie could almost sense the inner war and conflict currently waging war within Merle Dixon’s mind. A stab of pity pierced at her heart as she watched.

_All his life, all he’s ever cared about is protecting his brother_ , she thought sadly. _He doesn’t give a damn about anything else but Daryl_.

“Look, man,” Glenn piped up and Maggie’s eyes widened even further as she turned to look at Glenn, “you can fight this…thing, whatever the hell’s going on in your mind right now. Don’t do anything stupid. We might have a good thing here,” he breathed, glancing towards Rick Grimes, who gave a curt nod, though Maggie noticed his hand never left his gun holster, his fingers twitched as though ready to pull it.

Rick finally decided to break his silence, lowering his hand at his side. “We’re offering you a place here,” he added, glancing towards Carol for confirmation, who nodded. “But you gotta cooperate with us. We’re a family here, a team. You don’t cooperate and play nice with the rest of the group; I won’t have any problems throwing you all out of here. So, what’s it gonna be? You keep up this attitude and you’re a danger to my family here, as well as yourself, but if you check yourself and adjust the personality, I’d be willing to work with you on that, but no more of these outbursts, Dixon,” he snapped, yanking Merle by his shirt sleeve and pulling him away from Maggie and Glenn. “You gonna cooperate, huh?”

Merle stopped struggling against Rick’s hold and his gaze remained fixated on Daryl, who gave a curt little nod, silently pleading with his older brother to do right by everyone here and play nice. “Sure will, Officer Friendly,” he smirked. That seemed to be good enough for Rick, as he relinquished his hold on Merle’s t shirt sleeve and shoved him back.

“Wait,” Glenn called out, his attention fixed solely on Merle. “Can you give you me your word that you’re not going to try anything stupid around Maggie or me again? A-and if you get pissed at us, don’t throw us to the damn geeks. And if I ever get bitten,” he added, turning towards Daryl. “Please don’t shoot me in the head with your stupid crossbow.”

Daryl frowned, though the hint of a smirk tugged at his mouth. “I ain’t gonna kill you like that, Glenn. I think I’d be a bit more respectful towards someone I actually liked. If you ever get bit, kid, I’d ask you what you want. I wouldn’t just shoot you without askin’ you what you wanted first.”

“Okay.” Glenn swallowed and nodded, hoping it wouldn’t come to that.

Rick and Carol exchanged glances with Glenn and Maggie. It became clear to Maggie the two of them were just as confused as she was.

Merle studied Glenn a moment in silence. “You know, I think I like you, Chinaman. Ain’t nobody had the balls to stand up to me an’ talk to me like you had the last couple of days in a good long while,” he admitted. “You got guts, kid. Hang on to that fighting spirit an’ don’t let it go. An’ take good girl of Greene first or she might change her mind and come to me,” he joked, smirking at Maggie’s horrified expression.

Once she realized it was a joke, however, she felt herself relax and gave a curt nod.

Glenn frowned, furrowing his brows together. “I’m Korean, actually.”

“Whatever,” both the Dixon brothers mumbled in unison, which earned an eye roll from Maggie and Rick, and a stunned look from Carol and Molly.

“C’mon,” grumbled Rick, shooting Merle a dark little look. “I can show you where you can stay for now. Cell block E’s got a pretty good view of the courtyard. Easy to tell if a herd of walkers or other intruders are coming.” He turned towards Maggie and Glenn, a strange sad little half smile on his face. “You two all right?” he asked, concern in his voice.

Glenn glanced at Maggie and pulled her closer, rubbing her shoulder. “Yeah. I think we’re good,” she responded as she felt the gentle touch of Glenn’s hand on her shoulder, feeling her shoulders sag in relief.

She was grateful Daryl had gotten his brother to calm down and for now, things would probably be okay, assuming Merle learned how to get along nicely with others. Maggie lingered behind with Glenn as the others were led back inside the prison. Her new family, if she could even call this group that yet, were far from perfect, but in just the span of a couple of days, she’d witnessed Merle change in a way that she hadn’t at first assumed possible of him. She liked to think of the next step as a steppingstone on a an adventure, though she wasn’t sure how Merle would get along with her and the rest of the group, but only time would prove her wrong. Her worries and anxieties seemed to evaporate the moment Glenn’s hand instinctively reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. Glenn, sensing Maggie needed the comfort, pulled her close and allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder. “I’m right here, Mags. I’m not going anywhere. Promise,” he whispered, leaning over and brushing a lock of her dark hair over her shoulder so he could murmur it into the shell of her ear, and then he did something bolt, something he’d wanted to do for a long time, but never got around to it. Looking into Glenn Rhee’s eyes, she saw deep pools of green that displayed his heart and soul.

His lips touched her cheek. Time felt like it stopped. Her heart gave a few flutters before coming to a total halt. Her breath caught in her throat. Their fingers locked together, like puzzle pieces. A perfect fit, Maggie thought. As the soft skin of his mouth left Maggie’s face, the exact spot where they had come into contact with burned and tingled.

A hot blazing fire pulsated through Maggie’s body, warming her up. A tiny grin crept onto her face and her cheeks flushed a bright pink.

Glenn pulled away silently, but their eyes locked, having a private conversation of their own. Somehow, Maggie knew, as long as she was with Glenn and he was by her side, that everything was going to be okay.


End file.
